


You Can Take This Job & Shove It

by Skullharvester



Series: Current WIPs [8]
Category: Ratchet & Clank
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26508964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullharvester/pseuds/Skullharvester
Summary: Dr. Nefarious is through with being mistreated by the Galactic Rangers and puts in his resignation.  However, he did not expect the reaction that he got from his team after the news broke.  Now he has to choose between them and his new job, and never until now did he think that would be a problem.
Relationships: Captain Qwark/Dr. Nefarious, qwarkarious
Series: Current WIPs [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120226
Comments: 18
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy and have fun! 
> 
> If you liked this tale, please drop me a kudos and/or a comment to let me know if you'd like to see more! 
> 
> Thank you, and have a wonderful night!

When Dr. Nefarious, the Galactic Rangers' support specialist, had requested his own laboratory, he didn't expect to get what was merely the broom closet. They didn't even bother to at least stop storing the cleaning supplies in there! 

The doctor's co-workers were insistent that he should be happy that the room was big for a broom closet and brought up the fact that of course he could always just keep doing his work in the break room. That defeated the entire purpose of having a private laboratory, though. 

He couldn't care less about safety. He knew how to keep at least _himself_ safe from his own experiments. (Everyone else would just have to fend for themselves, as far as he was concerned.) What he wanted was _privacy_! Was that so much to ask for!?

"Oh. Did my schedule get changed? My bad, man. I didn't realize it was _your_ night shift."

Nefarious spun around in his swivel chair to bare his white teeth in a snarl at the young man who had the nerve to barge in while he was in the middle of drafting out the blueprints for a new weapon attachment.

" _For the last time, kid, I am NOT a JANITOR_!" he sneered, shaking a clenched fist like an angry grandpa who was bitter about the whippersnappers on his lawn. Nefarious wasn't even all that old. He was just a curmudgeon at heart. He uncurled one of his fingers, pointing at the door. "GET OUT OF MY LAB!"

The doctor's shrill tone of voice startled the youngster. He flinched and appeared to panic. "Okay, dude, okay! Just… just let me get my supply cart, and I'm Outtie 5000!" the scruffy kid promised, snatching the yellow cart by the handle, and rushing out as fast as he could. The door slammed shut behind him.

Good, Nefarious thought, turning his chair back around. He hunched over his sprawled-out parchment and continued to sketch. Sure, he could do this all on his tablet, but there was something relaxing about the sound of a pencil scratching away on paper. It reminded him of his childhood.

Ever since he was young, he loved to draw cool weapons and armor just for the fun of it. At some point, he got the idea to try and use household items to reconstruct his creations, doing his best to make them a reality. 

At first, the results barely resembled his art, but most of that was due to a lack of proper materials he knew would be required to make the real deal. He never imagined he'd get to do this one day for a living, but here he was living the dream.

Well, he would be, but he was still in a similar situation to that of his childhood. The Galactic Rangers just wouldn't listen when he tried to tell them that he needed very specific resources to construct a lot of his designs. He did the best that he could to utilize substitutes, but this resulted in his ambitions being held back significantly. 

Imagine what he could do, if only he had an employer that honestly believed in him and his dreams!

There was a knock at the door. Nefarious grit his teeth and pressed his thumb so hard into the side of his pencil that it snapped in two. 

He was never a strong person by any means with a body as lanky as the one that he had, but when he was angry... Well, the deep dents on the adjacent walls from the moments when he had to work out some of his frustrations on _something_ said enough about that.

"GO AWAY!"

The door slid open, regardless of the doctor's wishes. His blood began to boil in his veins.

"Hey, I _knocked_ like you said this time!" none other than his employer Captain Qwark said, sounding a little wounded by Nefarious' dismissal. "Rude." 

Qwark sometimes failed to pick up on things like irony or sarcasm, which didn't bode well with Nefarious' tendency to be passive aggressive.

Nefarious' chair wobbled back and forth when Qwark approached his desk and plopped his elbow right down on the top of the backrest. The support specialist gripped the armrests to keep his balance and scowled at the annoyance.

_Stupid, muscle-bound oaf,_ Nefarious grumbled to himself mentally. 

Nefarious tried not to indulge in his paranoia _too_ often, but he was very suspicious that Qwark liked to use his strength to intimidate him. It didn't take long from the day Nefarious had started working with Qwark for him to decide that Qwark was little more than a playground bully who never grew out of that phase.

"What'cha workin' on?" Qwark asked after peering down over Nefarious' shoulder for a while.

Childishly, Nefarious used his scrawny arms to poorly attempt to hide his work. "You'll see it when it's done!" he nagged. He knew what would happen if Qwark saw his work in progress. He'd start making stupid suggestions that hindered the practicality of the device and insist that they be implemented for the "rule of cool", as Qwark liked to call it.

In Nefarious' mind, there was only one rule: My designs are _my_ designs! If you don't like them, you can make your own inventions!

Sadly, Nefarious wasn't the one in charge here, and Captain Qwark made the final call on everything. For better or for worse. Usually for the worse.

Without warning, Nefarious' chair, with him still in it, was rolled off to one side of the room with the sweep of one of Qwark's massive arms. "QWARK!"

Grinning from ear to ear, Qwark hovered over the blueprint, and took a newly sharpened pencil out from the cup on the desk. He started sketching away, which mortified Nefarious. 

"Relax!" the captain insisted, practically feeling the anger radiating off Nefarious' frame, even when they were several feet away from one another, “I'm just making a few adjustments! Remember: We work as a team, Dr. Nefarious! That means everyone's input should be heard on every matter!" 

Qwark cleared his throat before making an adjustment to his hypocritical-sounding statement. "Mostly mine. Being the leader, you learn that you must take everyone else's opinion as more of a recommendation. After all, you can't get anything done unless everyone's on the same page, am I right?"

"I don't _want_ to be on the same page!" Nefarious hissed, jumping up from his chair and storming over to Qwark's side. "In fact, I want _you_ to get off _MY_ page!"

He reached over to snatch the blueprint out from under Qwark's hands, but Qwark grabbed onto the other end. "Hold on! I'm almost finished!"

At the time, Nefarious' judgment was clouded by his sour mood. If he was calmer, he would have known better than to try and persist with getting his blueprint back via force. Instead, he got what he deserved, but not what he wanted.

With both men pulling it in opposite directions, fussing at each other all the while, the page split in two with a loud ripping sound that silenced their bickering.

Nefarious' eyes blinked slowly as he became suddenly very aware of what he'd just done. No, what _Qwark_ had just done.

"E-Erm... Here. You can have it back," Qwark mumbled, sheepishly handing the doctor the other half of the torn parchment. 

Nefarious took it without even looking directly at him, instead just staring off into the distance like someone who'd just received the worst news of their life.

Qwark ran a massive hand over his head, making the antenna on his suit flick like an old-fashioned doorstopper. "We could... probably tape it back together! Heheh... Ooh!" He noticed a tape dispenser sitting on the desk, picking it up to offer it to his disturbed co-worker. "This'll do the trick, eh, Neffy?"

The doctor didn't respond.

"Nefarious...?"

The slender green alien lifted the two halves of the blueprint up to his face to examine the damage. Qwark had drawn not just only over the concept art of the weapon attachment but re-wrote his notes as well. Nearly a week of work gone, and he'd been so stressed out and distracted lately that he'd never be able to recall what he'd originally wrote.

"Qwark..."

His commanding officer perked up his head, hopeful of forgiveness.

"Get out."

Still trying to read Nefarious' mood, Qwark hesitated at first, mulling over his expression, which he could now tell was starting to contort into a look of fury.

This time, Nefarious screamed. "GET OUT OF MY BROOM CLOSE-... _LAB_ , AND NEVER COME BACK, YOU BUMBLING MORON!"

"It's just a drawing!" Qwark responded defensively, genuinely not seeing the problem here, and struggling as usual to accept the guilt of his actions. "Just draw another one!"

After letting the blueprint fragments slip from his hands and fall to the ground, Nefarious took the tape dispenser from Qwark's open palm, chucked it at him, and missed. The larger man saw what was coming the moment the office supply was grabbed and dashed out the door before it collided with him.

Nefarious curled his fingers anxiously, his frail chest heaving with deep breaths, just like his former therapist used to tell him to take when he had "those urges to do terrible, terrible things to people" creep up on him. It was no wonder he stopped going to therapy months ago. This wasn't really making his desire to kill Qwark go away.

"That's it. I'm done," Nefarious said to himself breathlessly, his nerves still completely shot from the overwhelming emotions going through his head right now.

He returned to his chair, shuffling his feet against the floor to move it back towards his desk. Pulling his keyboard closer, he opened the email client on his computer, and with his fingers returning to the keys, the disgruntled employee began tapping away at a long message addressed to the HR department.

That the Galactic Rangers even spared the budget for a real HR department was a dubious notion at best. For all he knew, Qwark _was_ the HR manager as well. He _was_ the one who conducted the interviews, so it wouldn't be a surprise in the slightest. 

In fact, that was probably all for the better, because Nefarious was only happy to give the man a piece of his mind. He was tired of getting the short end of the stick and being pushed around. Tired of being the butt of every joke.

He only hoped that Qwark was literate enough to read this essay full of vitriol that he was pouring his heart into.

Staying up most of the night, Nefarious made sure he aired every grievance, even the most minor of ones, that he could recall during his time as a Galactic Ranger. Every instance of Qwark stealing his lunch from the break room fridge was recounted with a date and exactly what was in his lunchbox at the time. 

Of course, he only remembered these things because he kept a journal of his daily activities and the feelings tied to them; that was one other thing Nefarious continued to keep up with after ceasing his therapy sessions. Now that he was thinking about it, he'd have to add today's events to the journal entry he made earlier on, but that would have to wait. This was far more important right now.

Finishing the final paragraph of his letter, Nefarious spun around in a circle in his cushioned chair as he pondered a title for the email that would catch Qwark's attention among all of the spam and fan-mail that he received on a daily basis. He considered something eloquent at first, but knew that for Qwark to notice it, it had to be simple and to the point.

Resignation? No, he doubted Qwark even knew what that word meant. He might mistake it with "reservation” and think that it was junk mail regarding deals on hotel rooms. That might be something Qwark would read, but since it didn't include any pictures or "Click Here" buttons, he'd probably just get confused about the purpose of the email and trash it after a few seconds.

**I Quit.**

 _Perfect._ There was still a big risk that all the words would deter Qwark, if it was him that would be reading the thing. Oh well. At least he'd see the title and the name of the sender, so that was enough. Just writing the letter was therapeutic enough. It was nice to get all of his true feelings out.

Nefarious clicked the Send button and reclined in his chair with a heavy sigh. Waiting for it to be seen was going to be the hardest part for him. He wanted the matter resolved now, but he remembered that this was the Galactic Rangers. No issue got resolved in a timely manner. Not even galaxy-threatening crises. 

Once, the Galactic President of the Solana Galaxy, the galaxy they inhabited, sent an urgent message begging the Rangers to save a major city from multiple bands of space pirates that had teamed up to pillage as many places as they could before hopping to another galaxy in a grand getaway.

Qwark's response? "We're binge-watching the latest season of Lance and Janice. Call back tomorrow, and we'll see if we can squeeze it into the schedule." 

When the president chastised him for his lack of responsibility, Qwark replied, "Look, if it's that important, just send in a bunch of space ninjas to handle it. This is the _emergency_ line, buddy!" before disconnecting the video call without letting the man get another word in edgewise.

The captain didn't even recognize their own galactic president. Idiot.

That was probably the best season of Lance and Janice to date, though, to be completely fair. Even Nefarious got teary-eyed! Of course, he dismissed all the fidgeting with his glasses to dry the tears as his eyes drying up from staring at the screen for too long. 

_I have sensitive eyes,_ he hissed at his companions when they seemed skeptical, since he'd been sniffling and whimpering like a baby throughout half of the season's plot twists.

Examining the stack of blank blueprint paper near the edge of his desk, Nefarious pushed his keyboard away to lay out a new clean sheet and get back to sketching – something different this time. Something that _he_ wanted to make, not what the other Rangers whined that they needed. Those ignorant fools wouldn't know what they needed if it fell from the sky, hit them on the head, and left an imprint on their foreheads that read: "YOU NEED THIS!!!"

Quitting his job didn't mean he necessarily had to stop working. Besides, he was technically still on the clock. Might as well do something to take his mind off

his anger towards Qwark that was also productive and made money. 

Hm... That was another silver lining about giving up this job. The pay was terrible, too.

Maybe this was a long time coming.


	2. Chapter 2

“I got your email.” 

Qwark wasn’t even sure if Nefarious was on the other side of the door, but since the eccentric doctor wouldn’t answer his texts or calls, the best he could do was to go to where the slender green man could often be found: His minuscule “laboratory”. He rarely ever left it, except to go to the bathroom. And even then, everyone on the squad had a feeling he typically just went in bottles, unless he just had the strongest bladder in existence.

After a long silence, he distinctly heard keys on a keyboard clattering rapidly suddenly, indicating that the doctor was disinterested in having a conversation. Or maybe he was just being vengeful by giving Qwark the cold shoulder. Ouch. Okay. Fair. He _was_ kind of a jerk yesterday.

Expecting the worst, Qwark had the courage – or perhaps the stupidity, to continue his efforts to gain the other man’s attention. “If you could just, y’know, open the door, I thought we could talk it over.”

No answer.

“Maybe over lunch, or something.”

Nothing, but the incessant typing proceeded. Man, he was fast. Qwark had a hard time just entering in his passwords, since he only knew how to type with two fingers. Nefarious played a keyboard like a musician played a piano.

“Are you writing me another email? It took almost my entire lunch break just to skim through the first one!”

Then, silence.

The green-clad captain waited, feeling his gut tie itself into knots over the anticipation.

“I’m updating my resume,” Nefarious finally answered, after inhaling sharply through his nose to keep his nerves calm, and his tone of voice even and serious.

“Oh. Nice,” Qwark blurted out awkwardly, unsure of how else to respond. He wasn’t sure he ever felt this tense before – not even on the field while duking it out with bad guys. What was he even afraid of? Nefarious was a total dork! What was the worst that he could do?

Even though Qwark couldn’t see it, Nefarious turned his head to raise his brow in the direction of the door, shook his head, then rolled his eyes as he went back to his business. “Anything else, or are you going to insist on wasting my precious time with meaningless chit-chat? I know you’re not capable of much else, but I have better things to do.”

It didn’t take much for Nefarious to trip Qwark up in a conversation that he was paying attention to. When the doctor wanted to shut somebody down, a few curt and bitterly said words was more than enough to do the job.

Qwark got a little angry at Nefarious’ attempt to put him down, but he refused to throw in the towel just yet. He wasn’t going to just let the man berate him unchallenged and leave. Copernicus Leslie Qwark wasn’t raised to be a quitter! 

“Do you…” Think, Qwark. Yeah, it’s difficult, but think of _something_! “Do you need any references?”

Nefarious’ eyes went wide, and he grinned in amusement as he scoffed at the offer. “I wouldn’t use you as a reference if you were the last person I knew in the galaxy! I’d sooner use the janitor kid as a professional reference!”

“…I could arrange that if you wanted. I have his contact number.” It was worth a shot.

The doctor slapped his own forehead, grimacing. “Take the hint, and just leave me be, _Qwark_.”

Qwark sighed, lowering his head in defeat. “Alright, Nefarious. If this is what you want…”

The smirk returned to Nefarious’ thin lips when he heard Qwark’s footsteps lead down the hallway. He felt good, putting his soon-to-be former boss in his place. Surely his final two weeks with the Galactic Rangers would be peaceful from here on out. Changing the pass code on his door was worth it, even if that broke company policy. It’s not like it mattered now if he followed the rules or not.

Suddenly, the door to his lab exploded. When the smoke cleared, Qwark entered, brandishing one of Nefarious’ more recent inventions: The Warmonger, which was a type of rocket launcher. 

Nefarious stared in shock. “WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?”

Qwark shrugged, putting the weapon away, and strutting over to sit adjacent from Nefarious on a sealed crate that creaked underneath his weight. “I swear, Nefarious – you tell me to knock, but what’s the point if you won’t even answer, anyway?”

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” the doctor roared indignantly.

The captain stuck his tongue out briefly, then replied, “I know you are, but what am I?”

“A MORON!”

“Hey, hey… Indoor voices, Nef.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Just take it easy.”

Nefarious felt that a blood vessel was about to explode in his head. “ _You just blew up my door with a rocket launcher that **I** made._”

Missing the point entirely, Qwark replied with a proud grin, “Yeah, it was pretty cool, huh? I’ve been practicing my dramatic entrances for when we’re on duty! And for my upcoming movie. I like doing my own stunts. Uh… If they’re not _too_ dangerous, that is.”

The lankier man steepled his hands together and closed his eyes, resting his fingers against the bridge of his nose while taking care not to jostle his glasses off his face. “ _This_ is _exactly_ why I’m leaving.”

Qwark blinked, confused. “What?”

“ _This_ ,” Nefarious repeated, opening his eyes back up to glare intently at the big galoot before him. “You have zero respect for me or my boundaries. You don’t care about _my_ ambitions as a member of the crew; it’s always all about _you_. _You. You. You._ ”

Before Qwark could even open his mouth to say something, Nefarious twirled his chair around once, holding his arms up in the air while he put on an unnerving fake smile. “Look, everybody, it’s the Qwark Show! It’s always about Qwark, all the time!” he said to an invisible audience. “And everyone else is just here to make him look good!”

A frown took over Nefarious’ face, as he leaned against the desk with one arm, narrowing his eyes sharply at Qwark like a predator. There was that feeling in Qwark’s gut again. He never recalled the doctor coming across as scary before, but now he was scared.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it, Qwark?”

When the captain didn’t immediately answer, Nefarious bristled further. “Hm?” he hummed, pressing the question. “Isn’t it?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, and doing everything in his power to avoid meeting Nefarious’ harsh gaze, Qwark admitted, “Well, I mean, everyone’s gotta look out for Number One, right?”

That was not the answer Nefarious wanted to hear, evidently. He sprang to his feet and pulled out a weapon of his own; a simple Combuster, but it still wasn’t something you wanted aimed directly at your face.

“I could kill you right now, you know,” Nefarious threatened, but he just stood there, watching Qwark in an analyzing sort of way. “I’d be doing the galaxy a service, getting rid of someone as obnoxious as you.”

Qwark leaned back on the crate with his hands up. “But you _won’t_ kill me, right?” he replied with a nervous laugh. He wished he would have kept the Warmonger out. True, he could pull it back out, but it was certain that if he made any sudden movements, Nefarious would shoot him before he could even get his finger on the trigger.

Taking a step forward, Nefarious placed the barrel of the gun against his superior’s temple. The weapon hummed ominously against the captain’s skull. 

Qwark turned his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut as if he were afraid to see the aftermath of what he suspected would happen next. He retreated to the happy place in his mind, thinking about pleasant thoughts like grandma’s fresh-baked cookies, puppies, and sunny days spent at the park… kicking down other children’s sandcastles they were making in the sand box. Good times.

And then, Nefarious put the gun away, just continuing to glare him down with an expression of pity mixed with hatred. Qwark opened one eye quizzically, wondering what changed his mind.

“You’re not worth going to prison for,” Nefarious concluded, sitting back down in his chair with his spindly legs spread open, arms dangling between them while he slouched forward.

Qwark frowned, somehow taking offense at the jab in his ego. “Okay, now I kind of _want_ you to shoot me.” He gasped when the Combuster came back out. “On second thought, I’m good.” A sigh of relief left his lips when the gun went away again, and he sat upright on the crate.

“So, you’re really set on leaving, huh?”

“Yep,” Nefarious replied, popping his lips at the end. He looked at his cadet photo pinned to his cork board on the wall, barely recognizing the smiling face anymore. If only he could go back in time and tell that person he was an idiot for wanting to join the Galactic Rangers. Maybe slap him for good measure to really get the point across.

“Well, you’ll be missed.”

If Nefarious’ neck turned any faster, it might have snapped. “ _What_?”

Qwark raised his voice. “I said: You’ll be missed.”

The tech specialist blinked, at a loss. “And by _whom_ , exactly?”

If Qwark replied with “the janitor”, Nefarious was _really_ going to shoot him. He wasn’t even going to bother trying to hide the body; he was going to put it on display as a warning.

Surprised, Qwark chuckled. “This guy, of course. Who else?” He pointed at himself with his thumbs.

The doctor’s mouth became a thin line, his eyes darting around the room awkwardly. “Err…” There wasn’t much that stumped Nefarious, but he couldn’t even begin to fathom how the conversation ended up _here_. He just got done _threatening to murder_ this fool, and here he was saying that _he would miss him_. 

Was Qwark… Was Qwark _messing_ with him? Did he have the capacity to get inside of his head using manipulation tactics? What if all this time, he was just _pretending_ to be stupid?

The captain’s phone chimed in his pocket, and he quickly pulled it out to check what that was about. “Hold on just a sec. Someone left a hate comment on the selfie I took this morning, and we’ve been arguing back and forth about it all day long.” 

With a few awkward taps of his thumbs and a smattering of atrocious grammar, Qwark composed what he felt was _the_ final message that would win the disagreement and end the string of bickering once and for all. “Hah! Take _that_ , internet trolls!”

Well, that settled it. He really was just a moron. Nefarious never imagined he’d be relieved by that, yet here he was.

Stuffing his phone away, Qwark turned his attention back to Nefarious. “Anyway, yeah, we’re best pals, aren’t we? HQ isn’t gonna be the same without you around, old friend. But I hope you’re happy, wherever it is you decide to go.” 

He got off the crate and headed for the gaping hole in the wall. There was a door here. It’s gone now. “Now that I’m thinking about it, I should probably start looking for your replacement. I’d appreciate it if you sent me another email with some details on what kind of qualifications you think the new hire oughta have. Take it easy, Nefarious.”

Nefarious watched him go with his jaw hanging open in stupor. He faced the monitors sitting on his desk and skimmed over his reworked resume. If he backed out of quitting now, he’d look like a fool. He _had_ to see this through for the sake of his pride. Qwark’s sappy sentiments weren’t going to make him reconsider.

Besides, this was _Qwark_. The words were probably meaningless.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, Nefarious,” Cora, one of the field operatives of the Galactic Rangers, mumbled tiredly when she passed by him, making her way towards the break room’s cruddy little coffee pot to get herself a cup.

She stopped in her tracks when it dawned on her how strange of a sight that was these days. She turned on her heel, looking him up and down as he sat at one of the tables, idly rubbing his thumb around the rim of a cup of black coffee. 

He must have been the one who brewed what was in the pot on the counter, as it appeared dark, much to his own liking, but not so much to hers, unfortunately. Speaking of things that were dark, he had noticeable circles underneath his eyes.

“Well you’re a sight _and_ have sore eyes,” she joked with a frown. “I haven’t seen you out of your broom closet in ages.”

“It’s a _laboratory_ ,” he grumbled tiredly.

“Right.” Cora went about fixing that cup of coffee for herself and did what she could to dilute the bitter taste with creamer. She sat across from Nefarious but kept her distance. They never talked much anymore, and most of the time he bothered to speak to her, it was to complain. Aside from his bad attitude, there was also just something that felt off about him to her; like he couldn’t be trusted.

She took a sip from her cup and cringed at the taste. This was why they usually dumped out Nefarious’ pots of coffee as soon as he left the break room. 

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” she asked, trying to make idle conversation, even though she clearly didn’t really want to. As far as she knew, though, he was the only other person awake at this hour.

“I haven’t slept yet,” he replied, almost nodding off for a moment, but he stubbornly resisted the temptation. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

This was probably the most politely he’d ever spoken with her, and it was only because he was so delirious from sleep deprivation. Might as well make the most of it, she figured. Maybe they could at least part ways on a positive note. She didn’t exactly want to remember him the way she thought of the guy now. There wasn’t a whole lot of good times between them to reminisce on.

“I figured. Qwark told me that you were leaving, huh? Bummer.” Cora tried hard to control her expression, so as to avoid revealing how elated she was to hear that news.

She almost wanted to throw in a: _Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, jerk._

“I realize that I haven’t been a very pleasant person to be around since… For a while now,” Nefarious began to say, but it seemed like he lost his train of thought halfway through.

Cora waited for him to say more, but he just couldn’t recall where he was going with that.

“Anyway,” he spoke up again, “I’ll leave you to your morning coffee, Ms. Cora.” Nefarious scooted his chair back, the thousand-yard stare remaining on his face, got up, and walked out of the break room.

“Get some sleep!” Cora called out.

She hoped he’d be alright, but she shrugged off her concerns, deciding that now was an opportune time to brew a better batch of coffee. 

“Well,” she murmured to herself, watching the flavor-infused water drip into the pot while tapping her fingernail against the counter. “At least he left his room for once.”

_He was still a weirdo, though…_

-

Cora was nicer than Nefarious remembered. Before, he had the impression that she couldn’t stand him. She and her partner (on the field, not in a romantic sense, though people always wondered if perhaps there could be more going on there) Brax would often join in when Qwark teased him, so what else was he supposed to think?

It was funny: Only when Nefarious opted to quit his job did it occur to him that it was possible these people _were_ his friends. He never had a real friend growing up, but he’d seen plenty of holo-films that involved friendship. When he wasn’t busy rolling his eyes at how corny it all was, he noted that in a lot of these friendships, the closest of friends tended to banter. Was that what they were doing all along?

If that were the case, Nefarious wasn’t sure he was crazy about it. The jokes weren’t so funny to him, and he would think that at least occasionally, he ought to be _in_ on them, not just solely the _subject_ of them. Regardless, the idea gave him a lot to ponder. If he could figure out complex calculations, and achieve fantastical feats of engineering, surely, he could figure out how friendship worked, and if that’s what he had here.

Then that nagging thought wormed its way back inside his mind: What did it even matter if he had friends here or not, if he was going to be leaving forever soon, anyway?

Realistically, he probably _could_ stop by to visit on occasion, but how pathetic and needy would that look? He didn’t need them. The Galactic Rangers needed _him_ , and this was all _their_ fault for not appreciating him more when they had the opportunity. It was their loss, and he was going to start his whole life over. Without them.

He even had a new potential employer already lined up. Some company called “Drek Industries”. The name alone made it sound pretty scummy and shady, but the job listing he found checked all of his boxes. Better pay, better benefits, and supposedly he’d even have his own lab! A _real_ lab! Not a broom closet. 

Honestly, he had half a mind to go back to working out of his mother’s basement, just as he was when he got recruited by the Rangers. It was a lot more spacious and quieter, and as a bonus, sometimes his mother would bring him down a snack. Sometimes, she wouldn’t even nag him for not going out more, for refusing to settle down with someone and give her grandchildren already, nor for failing to “make it big” like a “real doctor”. But only sometimes.

After doing some reflection, he decided that moving back in with his mother was out of the question, so Drek Industries was the most obvious choice. It was just a matter of waiting for someone there to get back with him.

He checked his phone for the umpteenth time, but no message from Drek Industries yet. Instead, he was greeted with multiple unread messages from Qwark, sent not long before he presumably went to sleep. It was just a bunch of old photos taken from the earlier days of the Rangers, and most of them Nefarious found to be embarrassing. Other than that, he didn’t see the relevance of Qwark sending these to him after their conversation the night before.

“Thanks, I guess,” he replied in a message of his own, confident that Qwark would see it eventually. The captain was always the last person to wake up.

After that, Nefarious decided to set one of the photos as his phone’s user interface background. Why not? It was better than the default background that he never got around to changing. One day, he was going to make his own logo. He was still hammering out the perfect design.

For now, he was content with the group picture of the gang, even if it wasn’t the most flattering image that he was in. From the look of things, there weren’t many pictures that he was in that included the entire squad. He briefly considered cropping Qwark out of the photo but decided against it for reasons that eluded him. Best not to dwell on it too much, so for the time being, he’d blame it on the lack of sleep clouding his better judgment.

He trudged past the company gym, catching the attention of both Brax and Qwark, who both apparently got up earlier than usual, and immediately started the day with running on treadmills. Brax’s idea, most likely, and though Qwark loved sleeping in, he loved attention and “bro-ing it out” even more.

With the treadmills pointed directly in front of the glass that made up part of the gym’s walls, it was hard not to immediately notice a very tired Nefarious shamble down the corridor with all the elegance of a zombie.

“What’s his deal?” Brax asked his team leader, panting heavily to make up for the lost breath so that he could keep his pace up on the treadmill. He remembered Qwark offhandedly mentioning something about having a conversation with Nefarious the night before, but he’d left the details vague.

Qwark waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe it’s all the fluorescent lights getting him down. You know how he’s used to hiding in the dark.”

Brax chuckled, a bead of sweat rolling down his scaly face, which he quickly wiped of with the back of his arm. “Hehah! Yeah, remember when the break room used to be his office?”

“Lab. You know how fussy he gets when people call it an office,” Qwark corrected playfully, grinning. 

Nodding, Brax played along. “Right – his “lab”. Anyway, yeah, it was like walking into a cave when he had the place all to himself. Hated it when we’d flip on the light switch.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t gone blind doing that, honestly,” his captain added.

Brax tried to stifle a snicker. “Well, his glasses keep getting bigger every year, so…” He shook his head, changing the subject when he noticed something. “Hey, you haven’t even broken a sweat yet! I guess that’s why you’re the captain, huh?”

The compliment made Qwark laugh nervously. Truth be told, he was sweating like a pig, but with his mask being so absorbent, no one could hardly tell. The fact that this misconception evidently made Brax respect him more _did_ make him feel macho in the moment, though.

“That’s one reason among many others, my friend! I also like to think that another big factor is my charm, my wit, my –”

Before Qwark could finish bragging on himself, both men were distracted by a loud thump that resounded on the other side of the glass. When they looked over and powered down their treadmills to give whatever it was their full attention, it seemed Nefarious had collapsed in the hall.

Brax dried the back of his neck with the towel slung around his shoulders. “Ouch. Should we make sure he’s alright?”

The captain nodded. “Prooobably a good idea.”

Neither of them being medical experts or geniuses in any capacity, when they exited the gym and approached Nefarious’ unconscious body, they squatted down beside the rail-thin man, and started poking him like a couple of kids who’d just found a dead frog.

“I don’t think he’s _dead_ ,” Brax decided. He must have poked enough dead things to know at this point in his life. Maybe he was, in his own way, a “medical expert”. If your standards were low.

“That’s a relief,” Qwark replied, sounding unusually non-sarcastic. It made him nervous when Brax took notice of this and gave him an odd look.

“I thought you hated the guy.” Brax’s brow knitted; he was obviously confused by the captain’s uncharacteristic concern.

The suggestion took Qwark by surprise. “What?!” That was the same sentiment Nefarious had. Did everyone but himself think he loathed their support specialist? “What made you think that, Brax?”

Brax shrugged, uncertain of how to put it into words. He just had a hunch. “Dunno. You’re always messing with him.”

Qwark was even more flabbergasted. “We _all_ give each other a hard time! It’s good old fashioned, harmless jocular fun!”

“Yeah, but when it’s you and Nefarious, it seems a lil different. That’s all I was saying, Captain.” 

Brax averted his gaze, scratching his head awkwardly. It wasn’t his intent to call Qwark out; he was only making an observation that he _thought_ was obvious. If he knew the captain was oblivious to the situation, he would’ve just held his tongue on the matter.

“You tease him, too, you know,’ Qwark pointed out, coming across as though his feelings were hurt.

“You’re my captain and my best bro. Of course I’m always gonna have your back, no matter what you do.” Brax turned back to Qwark, now smiling a little.

That’s great. Now Qwark _really_ felt like a jerk. He couldn’t be a jerk! That was for villains, and he was the good guy!

He then realized what the good guy thing to do in this situation would be.

“We should probably get the doctor back to his room. Brax, you grab his legs, and I’ll get the other side.”

“Actually, Captain, I’m pretty sure either one of us could carry him by ourselves.”

“That’s not really the part I was worried about.”

“Huh?”

“He’ll try to fight you if he wakes up. Don’t ask how I know that.”

“Heh. That explains the couch incident that happened in the break room.”

“Don’t remind me… I still have the bite marks.”

Brax shuddered, trying not to think about it too deeply. He did as he was asked, and gently pulled Nefarious up by his legs while Qwark tucked his arms underneath his shoulders. He weighed almost nothing, but he sure did squirm a lot in his sleep, making the trek more difficult than expected.

“Uh… What happened to the door?” Brax almost dropped his half of the doctor when he saw the blackened arch in the wall.

“Long story.” Qwark gestured to the pitiful cot in the corner of the room by craning his head in its direction. “Just help me put him down there.”

After doing so, they backed off, as Nefarious immediately started fidgeting and stretching his limbs. At first, it didn’t look like he would even fit on the bed that was too small for someone of his height, but as it turned out, he almost fit perfectly as he assumed a fetal position once he was comfortable.

Qwark was unable to withhold a reaction. “Aww… He’s like a little green cat.” He peered over at Brax, remembering that he wasn’t alone. Awkward.

Brax just rolled his shoulders in an uncomfortable fashion, coughing into his fist. “Hey, uh, you know – I think I still have that old, beaded curtain I used to have over my door when I joined the Rangers. I’ll go get that. It’s better than nothing.”

“Good thinking!”

When Brax returned, Qwark helped him set up the beaded curtain in front of the hole in Nefarious’ room. It didn’t offer much privacy, but at least it looked cool… ten or so years ago.

Brax jerked his thumb in the direction of the gym. “I think I’m gonna finish my workout. You coming with?”

Qwark hesitated, watching Nefarious sleep peacefully. “Sure – I’ll catch up with you later. I’m gonna, uh… Have a protein shake first. I hate working out on an empty stomach, you know?”

The captain was given a thumbs up by the reptilian alien. “Fine with me! See you in a few, then!” He went on his way, but Qwark didn’t budge until he was certain Brax was out of earshot.

Then, the captain attempted to find where Nefarious kept his blankets. Did he even have any? Were his sleeping conditions really that bad, when meanwhile Qwark recently got a brand-new waterbed all to himself on the company’s bolts? Now he was starting to see what Nefarious was so frustrated about. 

The doctor always complained that the budget for his department was too meager to ever get anything done properly, but Qwark presumed he was exaggerating since, frankly, ever piece of armor or weapon Nefarious crafted was amazing. It was simply hard to believe that gadgets like that could come out of a truly shoestring budget.

Even more depressing was that when Nefarious submitted requests for the company to order him certain necessities, personal needs didn’t really come up. That did strike Qwark as odd. _Everyone_ on the team occasionally asked for personal items, and frequently got them if it wasn’t too unrealistic pricewise. Unless it was Qwark doing the asking.

When it came to Nefarious’ requirements, it was hard to get over the fact that everything he requested was awfully expensive, even if they were things purely needed for his work. It was easier to buy Cora a new headset for listening to music when she went jogging, or Brax a cool leather jacket for nights out on the town, since those kinds of things, while frivolous, were significantly cheaper.

Yet Nefarious was so determined to get better equipment for his job that he didn’t even care if he had a proper bed – he would persist with submitting the same order forms over and over. Even when his birthday rolled around and the team would ask him what he wanted, he would just hand over another copy of the same piece of paper. Now it made sense why Nefarious resented all the low budget gift cards for a well-known video game retailer that he ended up with instead of his work necessities, although it wasn’t as if he didn’t put the cards to use. There were many video games on his shelf, sitting alongside the myriad janitorial supplies kept there.

Considering Brax’s idea involving the beaded curtain, Qwark dashed off to his private quarters, then eventually returned with a small bundle of cloth held in his arms. Even though Nefarious was too fast asleep to hear him speak, he still said, “I know it’s a bit small, but this was my baby blanket.” 

Qwark glanced over his shoulder quickly to make sure they were alone. “Don’t tell anyone this, but I still sleep with it sometimes. I still suck my thumb too.” Why was he telling _him_ of all people this? He was glad that Nefarious probably wouldn’t remember any of this, if he could hear him in the first place.

Kneeling beside the cot, Qwark draped the blanket over Nefarious’ body to the best of his ability. Luckily, with the doctor curled up so tightly, it covered him up to his neck. Then, Nefarious’ glasses and headband (Qwark always wondered if it was just for show, or if the blue circle in the center did something; he was pretty sure it was an LED light.) were carefully removed from his face, and placed onto his desk where he’d (hopefully) easily find it when he’d awoken.

Nefarious smiled ever so slightly in his sleep, indicating that he must have felt more comfortable now, even if he was still sleeping in most of his clothes. Qwark didn’t want to risk assisting him with _that_ as well. Again, if Nefarious woke up on the middle of that… Things were already tense enough between them as it was, and Qwark couldn’t even _begin_ to imagine how he would explain that one.

“Keep him safe, Cadet Blankie,” Qwark whispered, to the _blanket_ of all things. The object must have retained some personality that he had projected onto it during his childhood, like one might do with a treasured stuffed animal.

With a proud salute, the Rangers’ captain left the doctor to get some rest. Qwark usually wasn’t the type to perform acts of kindness when no one else was looking, but now that he’d given it a shot, he felt pretty good about himself. It was almost like being a nice person was its own reward.

Still not _nearly_ as rewarding as wealth and fame, but hey, a warm, fuzzy feeling was alright, too. This was like bunny slippers for the soul. He should write that down somewhere.


	4. Chapter 4

Typically, the Galactic Rangers’ squad would get together and do something fun on the weekend. When the weather was bad or if no one was feeling up to going out, they’d stay at headquarters and figure out some kind of morale-boosting group activity, whether it be watching holo-films, playing games, or just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company while relaxing on the couch.

Tonight, though, was perfect for a proper outing. Sometimes they made plans for something specific, but more often, they just went cruising until something caught the group’s attention.

Cora, Qwark, and Brax were already dressed in their street clothes and gathered at the base’s entrance, about ready to head out, until shockingly, Nefarious joined them. 

“I know nobody invited me, but the last memo I got _did_ say that _everyone_ on the team was welcome to join the weekly gathering,” Nefarious mumbled bashfully, adjusting his glasses before crossing his arms behind his back.

Snickering erupted from the other three when they took notice of his nerdy attire. To begin with, Nefarious had already proven that apparently it _was_ possible to not look instantly cool in the Galactic Rangers uniform, but the reminder of how he dressed off the clock was hilarious.

Nefarious’ upper lip twitched out of agitation. “ _What’s so funny_?”

“No offense, Doc, but you’re _not_ coming with us dressed like _that_ ,” said Brax, drying one of his watering eyes.

The doctor’s voice always got shriller when he was feeling defensive and insecure. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?!”

Cora walked a circle around Nefarious to get an estimation of the disaster he was wearing. On somebody else, the outfit _might_ have passed as something a hipster or a wild “let’s bring back the classics” trend-setter might wear, but on Nefarious, it just screamed “please stuff me into a locker”. Seriously, who still wore suspenders without a jacket in this day and age?

“Brax is right, Nefarious. The only way you could look any more like a creep is if you were able to grow facial hair and grew a mustache.” Cora’s words were harsh, but unfortunately true. At least they didn’t _lie_ to him about it.

Nefarious frowned. “Hey, I could grow facial hair _if I really wanted to_.”

Cora cringed at the mental image. “Please don’t.”

“Surely you have _something_ better in your wardrobe,” Qwark chimed in, standing by his companions’ sentiment. He especially didn’t want to be utterly embarrassed in public. It’d _really_ put a damper on his reputation.

“Fine. FINE! There is… something I’ve been putting together for a while now,” Nefarious finally agreed, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

Though it bothered him that this was the one time he made an effort to join them, and here they were wasting no time getting right back to roasting him, it was true that he had been considering a new “look”. Having to wear the Galactic Rangers uniform for so long gave him a little inspiration, since he ended up liking it more than he originally thought he would.

However, he was worried about what kind of reception he might get. What if he ended up looking like an imbecile? Given that apparently none of his co-workers had any qualms at the time about telling him the brutal truth, he supposed now was as good a time as any to give it a go.

“Just give me a moment. I’ll be right back,” the doctor grumbled, shuffling back to his lab. “Don’t leave without me, or I’ll chase you all down if I have to!”

Cora returned to Qwark and Brax, shrugging her shoulders. “When he decided he was going to quit, I expected him to just carry on as usual until the two weeks were up. Never thought he’d actually try to make his exit… memorable, I guess.”

Qwark beamed and replied, “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Brax wiggled his hand side to side in a so-so gesture. “Eh.”

“I think I’m on the same page with Brax here, Captain,” Cora admitted. “It’s nice and all that he seems to be trying to be a real part of the team _now_ , but what about how he acted in the past? He always talked down to us like we were dumb and ranted about how much we held _him_ back in his career. We’re supposed to just forget all about that? Just like that?”

She made a good point, but Qwark still wanted to believe that there was a better side to Nefarious that they just needed to encourage. For the first time since the doctor had been hired, the captain was starting to perceive Nefarious’ likable qualities. He regretted not noticing them sooner, but then again, they never got to have a real heart-to-heart until recently.

“Of course not, but if we could just give him a second chance, I think that-”

“Alright, I’m back. Go ahead – get your mockeries out of the way and be done with it. I can handle it.” 

Nefarious had returned, and for a moment, it might have been easy at a casual glance to think he was just back in his Ranger uniform. Rather, this new outfit looked like an upgraded version with new technology and utility features built into it.

Something about the design gave it a more sinister appearance. It might have been the curled spikes jutting out from the back or the bright crimson LEDs, but it was worth noting that his official uniform had slightly brighter colors and more playful textures on the material. This look was a bit much for a night out on the town, but at least he was a lot more respectable.

“Well? Nothing?” Nefarious worried that his choices might have been too boring. _Back to the drawing board_ , he surmised.

Qwark stammered, “Y-You look… Uhh…” It was hard to put it into words, but the small changes practically made the doctor seem like an entirely different person. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Nefarious suddenly looked very…

_Oh no – he’s hot!_

“I _really_ dig the new glasses,” he blurted out, being very sincere.

It was the glasses. _That’s_ what it was that _really_ sold the new look. 

Previously, Nefarious wore a pair of aviator-style prescription glasses that hardly did his appearance any favors. The sleeker, narrower glasses with reddish-orange tinted frames were a _lot_ more stylish and gave him a mischievous and coquettish appearance that Qwark never saw in him before. It was strange how big of a difference the clothing made.

On the downside, Nefarious could easily be mistaken for a super villain in that get-up. Although, that is one super villain Qwark would _not_ mind getting a thrashing from. Meow.

_This is Nefarious you’re thinking that about, Qwark! What’s the matter with you?_

Come to think of it, he _was_ feeling very strangely in Nefarious’ presence as of late. Once, he assumed that it was just anxiety caused by the doctor’s decision to resign. Now, he wasn’t so sure what it was, but he didn’t like it one bit!

Okay, maybe he liked it _just a little bit._

 _“_ Better, but I think it could use some work,” Cora began to say, but Qwark stepped between her and Nefarious.

“No way! It’s _perfect_! Keep it like that!” Qwark insisted.

Nefarious stood there proudly with his arms folded across his chest and a pleased smirk. “Perfect, eh? Didn’t think you of all people would say that, at least not out loud, but thank you.”

Brax’s shoulders slumped a little as he pulled on the collar of his leather jacket that he was previously pumped about debuting. He was feeling kind of outshone here suddenly.

Did Dr. Nefarious _always_ have a sultry purr to his voice when he spoke calmly? Qwark couldn’t help but wonder that to himself. He rarely ever did hear the man speak in a normal tone, and that was probably because Qwark was always getting him all riled up.

_That’s it – I’m turning this train of thought around. Wait, can trains make that kind of turn? Erm… What I mean is: Copernicus Leslie Qwark, seriously, cut it out. There’s no way that –_

Was Nefarious giving him a “look”, or was he just feeling superior right now? If only Qwark could tell. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as Cora started tapping him on the shoulder from behind.

“Alright, if we’re done playing beauty pageant here, let’s get going before everything in the city closes for the night,” she reminded them waving for them to follow her and Brax out to the small ship they used for less official trips.

Qwark followed close behind and smiled, relaxing somewhat. “You look stunning tonight, too, Cora,” he told her.

Cora sighed, opening the ship’s cockpit with the little remote on the keychain in her palm to let everyone else in first before she hopped into the driver’s seat. “Can it, Qwark,” she replied teasingly, a light grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Brax mentioned while climbing into the backseat of the ship. 

When she shook her fist at him (even when she was being playful, there was a hint of seriousness mixed in), he decided that since he planned on eating some good restaurant-quality food tonight, he’d rather not enjoy an appetizer of knuckle sandwich beforehand. 

“Uh-huh. Canning it,” he vowed, bending over to buckle in his seat belt.

Meanwhile, Qwark and Nefarious sat together in the middle seat of the ship. It was a tight fit, with Qwark taking up most of the space, while Nefarious tried to sit close to the window with his legs pulled together as tightly as possible without… causing discomfort.

When the ship sealed back up and began moving as soon as Cora started the vehicle, Nefarious felt that he could whisper something to Qwark without it being heard by the other two, thanks to the rumbling of the engine.

“So, you think I’m _stunning_ , huh?” While still hunched over with his hands folded in his lap, he glanced up at Qwark in the corner of his eyes without turning his head. Nefarious needed the ego boost.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” Qwark mumbled, frowning.

The doctor cackled under his breath. “ _Never_.” He crossed his legs, leaning in Qwark’s direction, so that they could continue to keep the conversation private as it carried on. “Perhaps I should add it to my resume: “Called stunningly handsome by my former employer.””

Qwark leaned closer as well, keeping his voice down. “Wait, _you_ added the “handsome” part. I didn’t say that.”

“I see. So, not handsome, then, by your account?”

Nefarious was no doubt steering the conversation, but Qwark wasn’t exactly sure where he was being taken to. He was just barely picking up on the feeling that he was being played somehow. It was the devilish expression on his face that gave it away.

“I didn’t say that, either!”

Cora glanced over her shoulder at them, curious about the noise she thought she’d heard, but the two waited for her to turn back around. She turned on the radio and set the volume at a reasonable level. It was tuned to a station that primarily played newer music. 

He’d never admit to it, but Brax started bobbing his head side to side to the Courtney Gears song that was currently playing while he entertained himself with his phone.

The doctor continued his conversation with Qwark. “Well you have to have an opinion one way or the other. It can’t be neither.”

Nefarious thought he had the man cornered and was curious to see how he’d respond. He expected that Qwark would call him ugly (he wouldn’t be the first), but best-case scenario, put it to him lightly. 

This was more a test of where their relationship as co-workers was at now than anything else. It was laughable to think that the doctor would genuinely _care_ about whether or not that buffoon thought he was attractive.

Yeah… He _totally_ didn’t care.

“Hey, Cora! I know it’s a bit late, but I call shotgun!” Qwark, amazingly, managed to squeeze his hulking frame over the back of the front seat to sit beside the ship’s current pilot, who sighed as he took over the only armrest between them.

“Fine, just don’t distract me while I’m driving-”

“Ooh! How about we play a game of I Spy?”

“Qwark, no…”

“I spy with my little eye…”

“Ugh.”

“Something blue.”

“Is it the front of the ship?”

“Cheater!”

“It’s _always_ the first thing you pick!”

The captain’s clever trick of simply bailing out on the conversation left Nefarious both disappointed and offended. It left him sulking at first, but eventually he made the most of it by stretching his legs out across the middle seat that he had all to himself now. He would have felt more comfortable if he didn’t feel the warm spot from where Qwark’s butt was.

Nefarious’ pocket vibrated, drawing his attention to his phone. He shielded the screen to keep the other three oblivious to the bright glow of the screen that would otherwise be very noticeable at this time of night.

_Following up on your application. Sorry for the wait, doctor._

_Hope you don’t mind an informal setting, but I happen to be at the nightclub I own in your local area._

_Feel free to stop by the address below if you’re interested in talking business. Drinks are on me. - Drek_

It was unexpected that the company owner would be the one to contact him, but if that were the case, that must be a good sign that his credentials were being taken very seriously. Finally, someone realizes that he’s so much more than the guy who fixes the computers and appliances.

Now came the uncomfortable part: Posing the suggestion of going to the place to his fellow Rangers without it coming across as strange. Nefarious thought about it for a while until Brax piped up with just the opening he needed.

“Anybody getting any ideas for where we should stop?”

The lanky green scientist slid himself into an upright position. “Actually, I’ve heard of a place you three might like. It shouldn’t be far from here. Blargian Nights. Ever been?” He looked around, gauging the reactions.

“Never even heard of it,” Cora admitted.

Brax folded his arms across the back of the middle seat, impressed by Nefarious’ suggestion. “No offense, but you don’t seem like the nightclubbing kind of dude.”

The doctor put on an anxious smile that masqueraded as a confident one. “Everyone has their surprises,” he said with a shrug of his narrow shoulders.

Truth be told, he’d never set foot in a nightclub in his _life_. The closest experience he’d ever had was a terrible school prom back in the day. That was a mistake. He didn’t expect he’d like this kind of activity, either. He was more of a back-wall brooder than a dancer. Publicly, anyway.

“Call me intrigued!” Qwark took hold of the ship’s control wheel, intent on finding the place.

“Hey! Give it back!” Cora exclaimed, leaning back against her seat to avoid getting elbowed. She knew better than to try to take back the yoke by force.

Whether or not it was wise, she trusted Qwark’s reckless ideas most of the time, but the real problem here was just that she hated backseat drivers. Or in this case, front seat drivers that weren’t the pilot.

“No need!” her captain insisted, pointing a thick finger towards the windshield. “See? There’s the place!”

“I’m better at parking, so just let me take it from here, Cap’,” she reminded him. Apparently, he agreed with the sentiment, because he let her handle things the rest of the way.

“Good point, Ranger! I’ll just return to my very important duties of sitting here and looking pretty!”

Brax laughed from the back. “You’re an inspiration to us all, Captain.”

“Indeed,” Nefarious grumbled sarcastically, calming down from Qwark’s reckless driving skills sending them on a brief ride that made his stomach do a flip. He let go of the edge of his seat that he was clutching onto for stability.

Qwark chuckled in turn, folding his arms behind the back of his head and relaxing while Cora busied herself with finding a parking spot at the packed establishment.

“Busy night. Hope we’ll even be able to get in,” Cora mumbled, eyeing every parking space in the hopes that a vacant one would eventually reveal itself.

“I know a guy. We’ll get in,” Nefarious explained, which got him a few glances – both from behind from Brax and in the rear-view mirror above the front seat from Qwark and Cora.

“You really _are_ full of surprises, huh, Nef?” Brax playfully tapped the tech specialist’s shoulder with his knuckles.

Nefarious rubbed his shoulder, hoping that it wouldn’t bruise later. It was only a little tap, but only by Brax’s standards. The man, like Qwark, didn’t always know his own strength.

“Don’t call me that.”

Suddenly, Qwark started bouncing up and down in his seat. “There’s a spot! Park there!”

Cora sharply turned the steering yoke in that direction. “I see it! I see it!”

When the group got out and headed for the front, a long line stretched out for nearly an entire block. Too bad they didn’t keep the camping equipment in the ship’s trunk just in case of situations like this.

Cora frowned at Nefarious, who was apparently very disheartened by his own estimation of how long it was probably going to take them to get in based on how quickly the bouncer was vetting each potential guest.

“I don’t suppose “your guy” can help us, huh?” She sounded skeptical that Nefarious even _had_ “a guy”.

He brought out his phone again, and composed a quick reply to Drek, letting him know that he had arrived, along with some friends. Within moments, he got a reply. One that evidently misunderstood what he meant by friends tagging along.

_Understandable. I expected a mind of your caliber would require some protection and have prepared accordingly. I let the guy at the door know to let your party skip the line. Tell your bodyguards that I’ll cover their tabs, too._

_I didn’t think you’d get here so fast, and I’m still with a client right now. It shouldn’t take much longer, but I trust you’ll enjoy what my establishment has to offer in the meanwhile. I’ll let you know when you can meet me upstairs._

Nefarious had to admit – he was impressed with Drek’s eloquence already. Even if he sometimes indulged in a little laziness himself sometimes, one of the doctor’s pet peeves was when he could barely make out what people were trying to tell him in outlets of online communication. 

Most of the messages he got from the other Rangers were usually one disjointed sentence laden with terrible spelling and emojis, so even something as small as this was a point in Drek’s favor. Though Drek was a businessman, and one could reasonably presume that entailed having a talent for communication, Nefarious’ expectations of others was always set pretty low because he was disappointed the majority of times he dealt with other people.

The scientist waved for his companions to follow him over to the bouncer, rudely walking right past other people who were waiting in line. They hesitated, but went with him, though Cora and Brax weren’t particularly comfortable with the jealous glares they received for doing so. Nefarious, on the other hand, was totally indifferent, while Qwark’s ego got a little boost from the attention. Qwark liked all attention.

“Hey, it’s Captain Qwark!” someone in the line called out excitedly, and in an instant, few were feeling angry anymore. It did only make sense that celebrities would get to cut in line, and folks were always eager for the potential of a free autograph.

“I’m your biggest fan!” another alien screamed from the crowd.

“Galactic Ranger Brax, I love you!”

“Cora’s even hotter in person!”

“Who’s the green guy? Is he the butler?”

Nefarious seethed over the fact that while the club patrons were ecstatic to see the other Rangers, he was practically a nobody in their eyes. True, he wasn’t nearly as much of a public figure as the other three were, but that didn’t make it hurt his fragile pride any less. 

After a quick exchange with the bouncer, he slunk into the building, and tried to just blend in for someone who felt very much like a drophyd out of water. 

Speaking of, there was one seated at the bar, sticking out like a sore thumb among the other aliens in a massive robotic suit that allowed the aquatic creature to walk on land. He – no, maybe it was a she – was chatting up the pretty robot bartender, who didn’t seem particularly busy with serving customers at the moment.

As Nefarious approached the bar, he could finally start to make out the conversation.

“And then what happened?” asked the female robot with a prominent lisp. 

She had a pleasant smile on her purple-painted lips. As a strange part of her aesthetic design, there was a rounded piece of metal that jutted out below her upper lip that resembled front teeth, giving her a slightly rabbit-like appearance just from that feature alone. Odd, but somehow it looked cute on her.

The mechanical lady had a little sphere resting atop her head like a hair bun would on a creature with organic hair, and curled cords dangling from both sides of her audio receptors like they were a set of earrings. She wore a simple pink dress with a heart-shaped belt buckle on the belt around her waist.

If someone had to guess her profession in a setting other than her actual job, one might guess she was a receptionist somewhere. Nefarious wondered if perhaps that’s the kind of role she was originally designed for. One thing that he learned in his own robotics training courses that he took over the years was that it should be easy to distinguish what your purpose your creation served, much like how it is encouraged for potential job applicants to dress for the job they wished for.

Having that thought, his eyes wandered down to the outfit he wore. What kind of job did this attire insinuate?

“…that’s when I activated the torpedo launcher and blew that ugly terraklon to bits!”

Nefarious jumped when the drophyd slammed her robotic appendages against the bar to create a loud “BOOM” for effect. The fish-creature cackled, and the bartender’s smile turned to one of mischievous delight.

The entire torso of the drophyd’s suit waved side to side when she shook her actual head, which comprised most of her real body. “Stupid terraklons…”

Both the drophyd and robot finally noticed Nefarious’ presence now that their little discussion had ended.

“Can I get you anything, sweetie?” The robot folded her hands, her blue eyes flickering brighter for a few seconds to make herself appear particularly chipper.

Something about the way she acknowledged him made him feel inadequate. It was the kind of way someone talked to a little kid, and that told him that even with the new look, strangers probably still wouldn’t take him all too seriously. He _was_ always told that he had a baby face, even for his species.

He noted that while the robot was being very pleasant to him, the drophyd was leaning against the bar and staring him down with her bulging eyes as if he were a potential threat. Why, he wasn’t sure of yet, but he did what he could to ignore it for the time being.

“I think my… companions will be here shortly. I’m not sure what it is they drink, but as for me, I would like…”

When was the last time Nefarious drank alcohol? It was a rare occurrence, since he liked to keep his mind clear to keep diligent focus on his work. Agonizing on his personal image especially as of late, he didn’t want to come across as the nerd that his teammates said he was by revealing that he knew next to nothing about bar drink orders or what they said about his character.

With the wave of a hand, he answered, “Surprise me.”

Eager to treat the request as a challenge, the automaton rifled through her supplies behind the counter to see what all was there. “So, what’s your name?”

He adjusted the bridge of his glasses with a finger. “Dr. Nefarious.”

The bottles on the lower shelf clinked together when the answer got her attention. “Is that your real name?”

“Does it matter?” Suppressing the irritation in his tone, he made an effort to sound less antagonistic, but for the most part it was only because the drophyd’s suit twitched, the mechanical joints getting ready to spring to action at a moment’s notice. “I don’t believe you’ve given me your name yet.”

“I’m Rita.” She smiled again, sickeningly innocently. It reminded Nefarious a lot of the simple-minded civilians that the Galactic Rangers so often rescued, typically from themselves. Blissful ignorance indeed.

At least she was being nice to him, so he had to give her credit there. He could let his misanthropic tendencies fall to the wayside just this once, even if his cynicism made it uncomfortable and difficult to socialize with the average stranger, since there was so little to relate on. 

Hopefully, she wouldn’t bring up the weather. He hated that idle topic most of all, and unfortunately creating devices that changed the climate conditions on a whim hadn’t altered the average person’s penchant for babbling about rain and sunshine.

“Is that your _real_ name?” he teased. Alright, he couldn’t help himself. He had to be at least a _little_ sarcastic, or he’d go crazy. Crazier. One of the two.

Her innocent smile shifted to coyness. “Who knows? You’ll just have to take my word on it.” Bending over, she gathered a glass along with some liquor bottles, then began to make a mixture that she chilled with a few cubes of ice.

_Hm_ , he thought. _More intelligent than I expected. Then again, mechanical beings do tend to be smarter than their organic counterparts._

He visibly flinched at the implications. _I’m an exception, of course._

In the presence of both Rita and the fishy patron in the mechanical suit, he felt a sense of inadequacy. Even his own creations intimidated him sometimes. He had a mind capable of building highly advanced machinery; machines that were capable of achieving feats he could never dream of with his wispy, frail, squishy body. It felt like a cruel joke.

Rita slid the stout glass in his direction, and he only just barely caught it before it went flying off the edge of the bar. He needed to get better about his daydreaming, but it was hard to keep that mind of his still. 

Taking a small experimental sip of his beverage, he shuddered at the taste. Not because it was disgusting, but because he hadn’t expected it to be so powerful. It was actually rather good. Bittersweet, but with the sweet aspect of it being only barely there, and with the added ice, frigid. A bit like himself. He would have to give the robot a tip of a few extra bolts, if only for amusing him with the choice of drink.

Fishing a fistful of bolts from his pocket, he dropped them on the counter and collected them in a pile with his hands. 

“This should be more than enough to cover it. Keep the extra.” He pushed the pile towards her, then folded his hands together on the surface of the bar. “So, were you manufactured locally, Rita?”

She divided the cost of the drink from her tip. The bolts clinked together melodically when they hit the bottom of her tip jar that she poured the remainder into. The drophyd finally peeled her eyes away for a moment when the shimmer of the bolts mesmerized her. Presumably, this was why there was a saying about having the “memory of a drophyd”. Their attention spans were as short-lived as they were.

“Mmhm. Not far from here,” Rita answered after some consideration, making it unclear if she was busy with counting the amount of her tip or just uncertain that she wanted to give out that information to the stranger.

Nefarious sucked down the rest of his drink with the provided straw leaning against the edge of the glass, then set it down on the table. “Were you originally programmed to be a bartender?”

Rita eyed him suspiciously before putting her tip jar back underneath the counter. In retrospect, he could see how his line of questioning came across as less innocuous as he intended, but he never saw much point in asking idle questions that he wasn’t _really_ curious about.

One of his pointed ears twitched when he picked up the sound of a bar stool’s legs abruptly grind against the floor. The drophyd’s mechanical body was standing upright now and looming over him by just a couple feet. He anticipated this moment coming – the only question was when.

Unexpectedly, while he was reaching for his Combuster, something jerked him backwards with a force that left him almost breathless.

“QWARK!” Nefarious shrieked, struggling as he was being dragged by the shoulders over to the nightclub’s dance floor. 

If he saw reason in the moment, he should have thanked the man for pulling him out of a bad situation, but right now he was more furious about the meddling. He had it handled. At least, he wanted to believe that. It was embarrassing to have to be rescued like the standard weak-willed civilian. He was a Galactic Ranger, too! Being the support guy didn’t make him less capable of handling himself in a fight. It didn’t!

Qwark chuckled, apparently oblivious to the kind of situation he unwittingly got the doctor out of. Snapping his fingers side-to-side and sliding backwards a little bit with his feet to give himself more room, he started dancing to the music that was currently blaring from the DJ’s speaker system.

“Lighten up, Nefarious! You can flirt with the cute robot lady later! This is my song!”

Which was worse? The fact that Qwark unintentionally made him feel like a coward by dragging him away from a potential fight, or that he misunderstood the situation as a romantic pursuit that he’d just interrupted, making him the worst wingman in existence?

It didn’t really matter because now Nefarious was just going to kill _him_ instead. He broke off into a sprint with the intent of tackling the captain, but Qwark caught him and spun him around by the arm, taking the attempt on his life as an offer to dance together. 

All the rotating didn’t feel so good on an empty stomach that just had alcohol sloshing in it, but by some miracle, the scientist was able to keep it down.

Nefarious protested with a string of insults and expletives that were largely drowned out by the loud bass-heavy music. Try as he might, his efforts to escape from Qwark’s grasp just weren’t working. The bulkier man was just too strong.

Cora and Brax watched them from afar at the table they procured after they managed to break away from the crowd of fans outside. As far as either of them could tell, both men looked like they were having a good time.

“You know…”

“Don’t say it, Cora.”

“Okay, but I’m thinking it really hard right now.” Smirking, she rubbed the temples of her forehead like she was trying to communicate with her partner telepathically. 

She might have to reconsider Nefarious’ idea about brain chips that would always help the squad stay in-sync on the battlefield. It sounded like it could have some other fun uses.

Brax shook his head in disappointment. “Personally, I just don’t see it. The captain can and _has_ done better. I’m glad and all that Nef’s being slightly less of a jerk lately, but… I mean, they don’t even have anything in common.”

Cora shrugged, then waved a passing waiter over to their table. “Evidently the captain sees something in him. We might not understand it, but as their teammates, I think we should be supportive, y’know? Just makes sense to me.”

“I guess you’re right,” the reptilian conceded, but he was still very unsold on the idea. 

“Just like how I was right that Nefarious was just bluffing he was gonna leave the Rangers to get the captain’s attention?” She cocked an eyebrow, feeling confident that she called that one.

Brax blushed when she brought that up since it was another recent occasion where he doubted her judgment unfairly. “Yeah, okay – so you’re right about most things.”

Eager to end that conversation, he turned to the waiter and asked, “Got any good appetizers here?”

Back on the dance floor, Nefarious at some point stopped resisting Qwark’s desire for a bit of fun, and now the two were competing over who was the better dancer. Currently, the doctor was winning, much to Qwark’s dismay.

Panting for air, Qwark said, “N-Not bad for the King of the Nerd Herd. I never pictured you as the dancing type.” 

The captain was trying to step up the moves he was putting out, but Nefarious had proven to be both more agile and energetic – probably due to the fact that he was incredibly lean while Qwark was built like a brick house. At this rate, he might have to break out a risky move that involved doing the splits just to try and keep up.

Nefarious raised his arms in the air and brought them back down slowly while rocking his hips to the beat. It was kind of funny how nonchalant he looked about the whole thing, like he was waiting in line at the bank rather than partying at a nightclub.

“Eh. A couple video games taught me how to dance, and I realized I liked it,” he explained. “Besides, I just like being better than everyone else at everything I know how to do. If I’m not winning and rubbing it in somebody’s face, I’m not having fun.”

The brutally honest reply stung Qwark, but not as much as it normally might. Instead, he was grateful that Nefarious had a trait he could relate to. “You’ll have to teach me a thing or two sometime.”

“Make it worth my while, and I’ll consider it,” Nefarious replied.

A buzz from Nefarious’ pocket made him stop what he was doing to check on it. As he expected, there was another message from Drek.

_Meet me upstairs._

“Something the matter?” Qwark stood still himself and craned his head curiously.

“It’s nothing. Just checking the time,” Nefarious lied. “I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom. Don’t wait up on me.”

“Yeah, I have days like that myself. I really need to lay off the spicy food.” Qwark discarded the idle thought. “Alright, then! I’ll be at that table over there with Cora and Brax!” He gestured with his thumb, and Nefarious nodded before making his leave.

Disappearing through the crowd to sneak up the stairs without his companions noticing, he texted back to Drek.

_On my way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was telling one of my friends about how prior to starting this story, there was another one that I was working on a long time ago that I never finished called All Aboard the Friend Ship that I thought I deleted a couple of years ago, but apparently not. I never even realized how many people reviewed or read it since my last upload. If anyone even remembers that fanfiction or has stumbled across it recently, the two original characters that make an appearance in this chapter must be a blast from the past. 
> 
> I'm kind of tempted to finish that story as well, even though it's incredibly dated at this point, though I've since lost my login information for that FF.net account.


	5. Chapter 5

Drek’s VIP lounge almost resembled a business casual and over-the-top frivolous sort of CEO office-away-from-the-office more so than what Nefarious imagined a common VIP section in a nightclub might look like based on holo-films he’d seen over the years. The parties that took place here were not so much intended for the patrons, not even the more prestigious ones, that hung around on the bottom floor. 

If anything, it was all for Drek’s sake. Nefarious imagined that if he owned such an establishment, he’d probably design it in the same way – with his needs in mind first, and everyone else being an afterthought. He assumed that if he were in the same position, no doubt everything he had was hard-earned, entitling him to luxury as a reward for his efforts. For a moment, Nefarious pictured himself sunken into the overstuffed plush cushions of the couch, rather than Drek. 

Sipping a martini with his stubby legs kicked up on the ottoman in front of him, the little Blargian man was truly living the life, while the scientist was relegated to borderline squalor within an organization that would have had a much larger budget in a fairer universe.

“Doctor!” The blarg raised his glass merrily. “Have a seat!”

Nefarious sat on the couch across from the businessman, pulling his knees close together and setting his hands in his lap, rubbing one thumb over the other. There was a lot of sensory overload going on in the room. The lights were dim, but colorful in a way that was disorienting, even with his new glasses tinting everything ever so slightly. 

Pulling his glasses down only made him queasier now that he could see that the lighting only gave the illusion that the décor matched. There was no doubt that everything in the room was outrageously expensive, but it was the tackiest layout he’d ever seen in his life. Even his departed grandmother, whom Nefarious only vaguely remembered from his childhood, had less gaudy taste.

He liked it.

Drek wiggled the martini glass by the stem temptingly. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“No thanks. I already had one downstairs.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Drek was clearly not happy about his offer being rejected but decided to let it slide. “Suit yourself.” He downed the rest of his martini, placed the empty glass on the table between them, then resumed laying back against the couch like a king in a throne. “So, I understand that you’re quite the expert on all things mechanical.”

“That _is_ what I put on my resume,” Nefarious agreed.

The sass must have put the blarg in a good-humored mood. “I hope you don’t mind, but I also took the liberty of running a background check on you. Your resume was impressive, but it was so much so that I had to make sure you were the real deal.”

“Fairly standard practice for-”

“I noticed you have a criminal record.”

Nefarious’ mouth suddenly felt dry when he swallowed, and his leg began to bounce anxiously beneath his clasped hands. “I was a teenager at the time. It was more of a misunderstanding, really.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, doctor. In fact, that kind of… moral flexibility and spontaneity is exactly what I’m looking for in an employee.”

Nefarious didn’t know what to say. He recalled spending over an hour trying to justify the kind of foolishness that all teenagers dabbled in at some point or another – even someone as naturally smart as he was – when he was up for consideration as one of the few, elite Galactic Rangers. Drek, on the other hand, was praising him for his boldness.

Praise was not something that the scientist was accustomed to.

“Let’s say I did become that new employee. What is it that my job would entail, exactly? The listing was a little unclear,” Nefarious said.

“You’d be doing the same things you already do in your current position, with better accommodations, of course: Building new toys for me and my company. Although, I might ask you to do a little field work for me on occasion.”

An active position! That was an exciting thought. It did get tiresome remaining cooped up on the ship or at HQ most of the time. The rest of Nefarious’ team believed he might be a liability; that he was less capable of defending himself compared to the other Rangers. They felt it was best to keep him someplace safe, where he was less likely to get hurt. He wanted to prove them wrong but was never given the chance. 

What was even the point of designing all these fancy gizmos if you never got to use them much yourself? Why should the other three have all the fun while he just toiled away thanklessly in the shadows, creating the means for them to live out their wildest power fantasies? Though the other Rangers had been slightly more pleasant since the announcement of his impending resignation, he had the nagging feeling that sooner or later, things would go back to the way they always had been.

Although Nefarious proceeded to ask question after question, for the sake of being safe and to appear to Drek as being wise – something he often forgot was a trait separate from general intelligence – and genuinely interested in his company’s affairs, his mind had already been made up. It was a struggle to hide his eagerness when finally, a contract for him to sign was pushed to his end of the low-sitting table. Initially, the pen handed over to him pressed against the dotted line before he stopped himself from writing out his signature right away. He almost forgot to read it in full first.

Fiddling with a little gear wheel on the metal arms that held his high-tech glasses in place, the scientist enhanced his vision as best as the device allowed, but could still not make out what the fine print on the document read. If presented on a tablet of some sort, he was sure he could have increased the size of the font, though that was perhaps why even in this day and age, many important legal documents were still presented on paper. Once, he was told what it was because e-signatures could be more easily faked, but he knew as an expert in technological endeavors that any digital security technician worth their salt had a tight system in place to prevent such basic levels of identity fraud.

“Would you mind telling me what this section is all about?” Nefarious turned the paper around, facing the print towards Drek.

Few must have inquired about it because Drek grit his teeth and made a face as if he were about to break out into a nervous sweat. “Oh, that. I’ll have my secretary explain it to you. She’s more of a PR person. Heheh…” He leaned over on the couch to press a button multiple times on a controller embedded into the piece of furniture’s arm.

The door Nefarious entered earlier slid open, and with the clicking of high heels entered the robot bartender from downstairs. “Yes, Mr. Drek?” She must have held multiple jobs. Not uncommon, in this economy. At least the doctor guessed right about one of her professions when he mused on it earlier.

“Rita, our friend here had a few questions about the contract,” Drek said, presenting Dr. Nefarious with an outstretched hand, as if this was her first time seeing him. “Would you care to help?”

When her eyes met with Nefarious’, she smirked. “Of course! What seems to be the problem?” 

She took a seat beside the green scientist, sitting awfully close. Uncomfortably close. He was compelled to shimmy further away on the spacious seat. Something about the way she was staring at him was unsettling, but that might just be the fact that he was always awkward around girls. He was awkward around everyone, really.

Nefarious passed the unsigned document over to her, tapping his finger under the first paragraph where the font shrunk down to an illegible size. She skimmed over it, but he doubted she read (or rather re-read) the entire thing. The only way a robot could read and absorb the information that fast was if they had the file written to one of their drives in certain formats. When it came to words presented in any other fashion, they more or less had to take it in the same way organics did, though some robots had cameras in their eyes to preserve images to later reference or review. He’d either have to get inappropriately close to her face or open her head up to tell if she was one of such robots.

“Oh, this is mostly just a safety wavier.” Rita handed the parchment back to him. “Conceding that Drek Industries isn’t liable for any injuries sustained on the job. Don’t worry – the extensive health insurance coverage you’ll be provided with will take care of you if anything happens, whether or not you’re at work at the time. All this establishes is legal protection from being sued over it.”

“Does this sort of thing come up often?” Nefarious asked, not liking the sound of an accident-prone workplace. That’s something he was trying to escape from in his current job. It was amazing how, even when kept away from combat, he managed to end up hospitalized twice in the past year because of gross negligence.

Rita shook her head no, which brought him some comfort. “We had an incident a few years back with a disgruntled employee that slipped on a floor that was clearly marked as being wet, and after that lawsuit, we had to go back and update our contract to prevent something like that from happening again. It nearly bankrupted the company, but we’ve long since recovered.”

“Yes,” Drek butted in. “Payment won’t be a problem. We even reward our employees with bonuses if they exceed their quarterly expectations! The whole reason I’m seeking someone like you for this newly opened position for lead scientist is because my company is actually in the middle of seeing a big boom in business!” 

He waved his hands in the air with a wiggle of his fingers, mimicking the effect of an explosion of fireworks raining down from the sky. “We’re expanding our travel resorts that are scattered all across the galaxy, with the intent of branching out to other nearby solar systems!”

“Wait.” The news came as a disappointment to the doctor. He expected something more exciting. “I’m going to be involved in some kind of tourist trap racket?” It offended him to think that his talents would be squandered for something so meaningless. They were already being squandered with the Galactic Rangers, but this sounded even more humiliatingly unfulfilling.

Drek wrung his hands together, keeping his composure despite the surprisingly blunt criticism. “Ah, this will just be an introductory project for you. I assure you that it’ll get much more exciting afterwards. I should point out that you’ll be working on the _security_ aspect of our new resorts primarily, but no doubt I will need help with what I’m sure are trivial matters for you, such as artificial climate adjustment. 

“On the former matter, I have no doubt that many of my enemies in the industry would stoop to a new low, and put my patrons as well as my property at great risk to try and drive out the competition.”

Now Nefarious was interested again. He could already picture himself ending up on the galactic news, praised as a hero even greater than Qwark for his inventions that saved the lives of many a traveler. If that wasn’t an ideal revenge for the scientist’s previous maltreatment within the Galactic Rangers, he wasn’t sure what was. It took no further convincing for him to go ahead and sign the paperwork, and that made Drek incredibly happy.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Drek,” Nefarious said as he finished off the small details of his signature with a flourish of the pen.

“Please, call me Alonzo,” the businessman offered to be more personable.

The doctor gave the document and pen to Rita when she held her hands out expectantly. “I would prefer to keep this relationship strictly professional, if you don’t mind.”

Drek shifted on the couch cushions uncomfortably, apparently not taking well to his new employee’s persistent refusal to accept his offers of hospitality. “Of course. Rita, would you be a dear, and – “

Nefarious felt his heart cease up for a second when he heard the loud slam of the door opening abruptly. He twisted his torso to look over the back of the couch at where the noise came from.

Massaging the temples of his narrow, yet tall forehead, Drek grumbled. “Lieutenant Finn, is now really the time? I’m conducting a job interview here.”

The drophyd, the same one Nefarious met at the bar earlier, and her expression of concern did not waver. “We have an, uh, incident downstairs.” She gestured over her shoulder with the claw at the end of her mechanical suit’s arm. “There’s a big guy in green spandex causing a scene. I think he had too much to drink.”

Rita immediately came to her own defense when Drek turned his gaze upon her. “One of the other bartenders must have kept giving him drinks after I cut him off. You know I’m good at telling when someone’s had enough.”

Drek sighed, and with the snap of his fingers, summoned something out of the shadows of the dimly-lit room that walked upon rusted joints – evident from the cringe-inducing racket of grinding and screeching. “Victor. Go down there with Finn and handle it.”

“No problem, boss,” replied the massive crimson robot that Nefarious could tell was practically a relic of early robotics.

The doctor immediately shot up from his seat, drawing the attention of all eyes in the room. “I should probably go with. I…” He hesitated, afraid of not only embarrassing himself, but also potentially jeopardizing the job he just secured. “I have a feeling I know the guy she’s talking about.”

After Drek nodded, Finn was the first to go back down the stairs, followed by Victor who rudely brushed past Nefarious to get in front of him. The red robot had shot him a passing glare that said he was sizing the organic scientist up, calculating where he placed on the food chain of the organization that he was now a part of. Shaking off Victor’s attempt at intimidation, Nefarious kept his distance from the two mechanical bodies that shambled down the stairway a few feet ahead.

If they didn’t beat Qwark senseless for whatever the man was up to down there, Nefarious was going to do it himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Victor had already drawn out one of the Razor Claws built into his wrists before even uttering a word. Although Rita in the past had tried to explain the idea of “de-escalation” to the rusty enforcer, the concept didn’t stick. She was the socialbot (hotbot being the more common slang, given that many robots geared towards socialization were built to be aesthetically pleasing to aid in their primary function), so that sort of thing was her business, not his. The only kind of negotiation a warbot like himself did was at gunpoint.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to get Captain Qwark’s attention over the blaring karaoke music coupled with the organic’s drunken, slurred singing. “I’m gonna need you to take your pants off your head, and put ‘em back on –”

He couldn’t think of the word, and literal gears were grinding in his head as he searched his internal data banks.

“Uh… Your pants region!” Victor was hopeful that Rita was watching from somewhere. Even he was proud of his attempt at diplomacy. Maybe he’d get points for trying it out at least once or twice.

“You mean legs?” said Finn after a pause for thought, who ought to know even less about the subject, being a legless aquatic creature and all.

The mechanical lieutenant snapped his fingers. “Yeah, legs.”

Nefarious, meanwhile, wished that he could just disappear, but he hadn’t yet finished that cloaking device he’d been working on for a while now. So apparently his boob of a captain was going to be dealt with by two equally brutish dolts. He didn’t see this panning out well. If he were just some random bystander, he’d be utterly enthralled, but since he was an associate of these people, he was instead utterly mortified. 

Even worse, Cora and Brax were nowhere to be found. They always had a way of disappearing conveniently whenever Qwark insisted on doing karaoke. Nefarious didn’t blame them for wanting to avoid getting dragged into a duet and be subjected to the captain hamming it up big time. 

_Never again,_ were the exact words Nefarious used the first and only time he got roped into that sort of thing against his will.

Was it too late to call his mother up, and ask if she still kept the basement exactly as it was when he moved out?

“Now there’s no need for hostility!” said Qwark when he finally stopped dancing around on stage as the command registered with him as something other than an exclaimed compliment from a fan. “Why don’t you and your fishy friend over there hop up on stage, and we can sing a three-part harmony? I know I tend to outshine my peers naturally, but there’s plenty of stage for everyone!”

For a second, it sounded like Qwark had sobered up out of fear, but the hiccup that followed suggested he was still buzzed and unaware of the trouble he was in. “What say you, friends?”

Victor and Finn exchanged glances, then refocused their gaze back on Qwark. The second Razor Claw slid out from Victor’s other wrist, and one of Finn’s pincers on her mechanical suit was swapped out for a grenade launcher. Qwark screamed, and jumped off the stage, now running a circle around the inside of the nightclub while the two lieutenants pursued him with ear-piercing battle cries.

“I’m too young and handsome to die!” Qwark cried out, pushing other guests out of his way while he tried to lose the pair of enforcers in the crowd. 

The fans that were previously hanging onto every lyric of the songs he’d been singing earlier now seemed pretty disenchanted by his lack of bravery, and his lack of pants did little to make up for it even for the fans most smitten with him. This wasn’t the Qwark they saw portrayed in the vid-comics.

Nefarious had to force himself to get over his own shock at the situation. Used to being chastised if he even considered getting in the fray of any intense predicament, it didn’t even occur to him at first that he should get directly involved. He took an alternate path that he calculated would catch him up to Qwark before the other two who, despite having robotic bodies, moved much slower than the doctor could with his long organic legs.

There were a lot of things that Nefarious could have said to get the leading Ranger to get through to him. To make him see that all of this could be resolved if everyone just settled down and talked things out. 

“QWARK, YOU IDIOT – CAN’T YOU JUST _BEHAVE_ WITHOUT ME HAVING TO BABYSIT YOU!?”

Like Victor, Nefarious wasn’t renowned for speechcraft.

“You were in the bathroom for like the past thirty minutes!” said Qwark in between breaths. “I got bored waiting on you to come back!”

Qwark huffed and puffed as he continued to try and outrun the drophyd and warbot, but rather than doing the smart thing of just running _outside_ of the establishment (that didn’t even occur to him as a possibility), he was treating it like a personal race track. The surrounding audience was gawking at the “racers” like it was one, and he could even overhear some making bets. It wounded Qwark’s pride when he realized that he wasn’t “the green one” that was being bet on the most. Nefarious could have probably had a decent career in field and track if machines didn’t catch his interest instead.

“Qwark, listen to me,” Nefarious said authoritatively. “If you’ll just put your pants back on –” He couldn’t believe he was telling a grown man this, and not a small child. “– and apologize for being such an embarrassment to yourself, everyone who knows you, and the entirety of organic life, I’m sure that –“

A grenade Finn fired went off between them, but only barely managed to avoid hurting either of the two men, though they yelped and spread further apart from each other as it exploded.

“My bad!” Finn called out to Nefarious in particular. “I was aiming for the chunky one!”

Qwark jogged closer to the nerdy scientist. Their shoulders bumped together every now and then accidentally. Not painfully so, but rather in a way that made the doctor feel weird about the physical contact. “Nefarious, I don’t think they’re interested in forgiveness – Hold on a minute! I’m not _chunky_! I’m all muscle!”

“Qwark, I’ve seen your gut before,” Nefarious mentioned.

“Seriously, Nef? My life’s at stake here, and you’re shaming me for my voluptuous figure?!”

“I’m not shaming! I like – erm… Forget I said anything.” Nefarious felt his pointed ears turning red, but he dismissed his entire face feeling so hot on account of all the physical activity.

“Wait, when did you see my gut –”

“FORGET I SAID ANYTHING!”

They dove apart from each other again at the sound of more grenades being launched, scrambling behind some overturned tables for cover. The tables were made from a strong alloy to be sturdy enough to withstand the might of customers of larger species, so Nefarious and Qwark were lucky enough to be protected from the detonations thanks to the interior decorator’s wise choices. Nefarious would have to ask Drek later who made these decisions so that he could write them a thank you letter sometime.

Qwark should’ve probably stayed in hiding when he heard hydraulically powered footsteps come towards the table he was ducked behind, but he was too tempted to peek over the edge. Victor reared one arm back, then thrust his Razor Claw forward with all his might, nearly taking part of Qwark’s head off before the organic dropped back down just in time. 

Not a scratch, thankfully, but that was extremely close. To be sure there was no damage, the captain had to feel his head and the antenna atop his mask a few times while his heart thrashed in his chest. Then, the alloy table was flipped into the air by the warbot, flying straight over a small cluster of nightclub patrons that hurried to get out of its shadow.

Qwark rolled backwards as Victor rushed forward to take another slash at him that instead tore into the floor with a loud hiss. He swung with his other arm and missed again, and this left him vulnerable when Qwark smashed a chair against the side of the warbot’s head. It didn’t shatter into fragments like Qwark expected it to as often happened in the holo-films, but instead left Victor’s bulky jaw cocked to the side. Qwark winced at its awkward angle, having a feeling that the damage might be permanent.

“RAAAGH!” Victor roared. His jaw felt loose in their sockets, threatening to fall off at the slightest movement, yet that didn’t stop him from expressing his rage. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, STUPID SQUISHY!”

Taking a few steps backwards, standing upright now, Qwark used the chair as a shield, with the legs pointed towards Victor as a deterrent. He saw animal tamers use this technique at a circus once, but unfortunately the warbot was at least smarter than an animal. 

With the backside of his arm, Victor smacked the chair out of his hands. Unfortunately, one of the legs clipped the bottom of Finn’s tank as she approached to assist Victor, and water sprayed from the crack that continued to expand as the pressure from the water split the orange glass further. She and Victor both went into a panic, while Qwark and Nefarious (now emerging from his own hiding place) watched in awe as the warbot’s frame sparked and shook violently when the water sprayed him.

Victor made a series of helpless noises that indicated he was still alive but paralyzed from the severe damage to his circuits. Finn flopped at the bottom of her tank, gasping for air while slapping at the built-in console within the receptacle with a fin until she found the eject button that launched her out of the tank and into a nearby pitcher of beer. Not the most ideal source of liquid, but it was better than dying, assuming it wasn’t enough to give her alcohol poisoning. This was the one time she was glad to know that Drek watered the drinks down heavily to make more of a profit.

When Finn calmed down a little – that might have been the effects of the alcohol getting in through her gills – she saw that the pitcher she was floating in actually belonged to someone who was sitting beside it at the bar.

“Oh my! So much for my after-work drink!” gasped the portly blue man with a sense of humor. “I would’a shared if you just asked! Well, at least you won’t be flushed today! Heehee. Don’t get me wrong – I have the utmost respect for drophyd funeral rites. Conducted a few myself. But, being called in for an unclogging job when it goes wrong can be a real pain!”

The drophyd sighed, causing bubbles to float to the top of the pitcher. “Just. Shut. Up.”

The Plumber tsked. “Now there’s no need to get cranky! Here – I can fix that tank right up in a jiffy!” He stood up and retrieved a few tools from the case he had sitting on the counter next to his half-full mug, then immediately got to work on patching up the drophyd’s suit that had tipped over onto the floor with a thud when she ejected herself. He paused in his work to glance over his shoulder at the little orange creature in his beer pitcher. “I’ll just mail you the bill. We can work out a payment plan.” With that, he went back to fixing.

This… This was why Nefarious never got out much, at least to tag along with the other Galactic Rangers. He couldn’t even accept what he was beholding as reality, but he knew he wasn’t about to wake up from some stress-induced fever dream this time.

Qwark dusted off his palms by brushing his hands together, then began to strut off – pants still on his head. “And the day was saved, thanks to _me_ : Copernicus Leslie Qwark!”

Nefarious turned to watch him head for the exit, mixed feelings rising in his gut. First, he was astonished, then appalled, and then… angry. No, furious. _Livid_.

What was Drek going to say when he came out and saw the damage done to his nightclub? When he saw that his two trusted enforcers had been utterly humiliated? When he saw that Nefarious just let his companion get away with it.

Teeth clenched painfully in rage, Nefarious tapped on a device mounted to the wrist of his new outfit, then aimed his fist in the direction of Qwark’s legs. The tether of a Swingshot sprang out, coiling around the captain’s ankles. Before Qwark could even turn his head, the doctor pressed the button to retract the line, and it brought the burly man to the hard ground. The fall left Qwark too dazed to stand, even by the time Nefarious stood over him with a disappointed glower.

The Rangers captain rolled over onto his back; a delirious grin spread across his face. He probably didn’t even know what caused the tumble; it happened so fast. “Hey, buddy, mind giving me a hand here?”

Qwark reached up a hand as a plea for the scientist’s assistance, and surprisingly, Nefarious gently wrapped his fingers around the other man’s palm. With a sudden yank, he jerked Qwark’s upper body towards him, and bashed him in the eyelid with the handle of his Combuster that he’d brought out from behind his back with the other hand, causing Qwark to black out immediately.

“Idiot,” Nefarious hissed, putting the weapon away.

The sound of clapping coming from the stairway to the VIP lounge drew the doctor’s attention. He let go of Qwark’s limp hand, getting up to have a better look. Just barely through the gaps in the handrails, he could see Drek stood beside Rita, who was tall enough to be seen without much effort. Both were applauding _him_.

“See, Rita?” Drek said, intentionally loud enough for Nefarious to hear even over the thrumming dance music. “I knew he’d be a good pick for the company!”

She rolled her vibrant blue eyes, even though their solid color made that difficult to recognize. “Mmhm – you’re a very savvy man, Mr. Drek.”

Pride swelled in Nefarious’ chest. So, this was what it was like to be appreciated.

“Whoops! Heh, you were right, Cora. Looks like the captain partied too hard without us!”

Nefarious turned around to see that Brax and Cora had finally come back from wherever it was they vanished to. “Where were you two?”

Cora and Brax looked at each other, then at once blurted out, “We were in the bathroom.”

Their lankier companion furrowed his brow, puzzled. “Together?”

Brax rubbed the back of his neck, then started to help Cora pick their captain up off the floor. People really needed to stop passing out on his watch because as much as he liked lifting heavy stuff for fun, this was getting ridiculous. 

“Uhm, let’s just get Qwark back to the ship,” Brax mumbled bashfully.

“For the sake of my sanity, that’s probably for the best,” Nefarious agreed, surprised to find himself helping with transporting the big lug as well.

Nefarious was starting to feel more than a little guilty for hurting Qwark, even if he deserved it. Now that he was really thinking about it, Nefarious didn’t _hate_ Qwark. Not in the true sense of the word. He just wanted him to do _better_. In a way, the scientist pitied him for not knowing _how._


	7. Chapter 7

_“_ Hold still,” Nefarious grumbled as he held the thermal pack over Qwark’s bruised eye. He placed his other hand underneath the captain’s massive chin to help deal with the man’s inability to stop flinching from the cold.

Though Nefarious wasn’t trained as a physician, solely because he held the title of “doctor”, he tended to get stuck doing the best he could to mend his teammates when he had to. Usually he’d just give them a bit of Nanotech and send them on their way, but their supply was running low because of the most recent budget cut. So, despite Qwark’s whimpering, Nefarious wasn’t about to give him any of the little that they had left to stretch until the next month. This wasn’t an emergency, even if Qwark seemed to think so.

The doctor felt himself nodding off every few moments, until Qwark would wake him up by saying something or making another pained noise. There were dark circles underneath Nefarious’ squinted eyes, and they were very visible without his glasses on, which felt too uncomfortable to wear in his exhausted state.

Shortly after the group returned to HQ, he sneaked back to the ship to return to Drek’s club for the purpose of fixing up Victor. It was an hours long task that was by no means easy without everything he needed to get the warbot back in decent shape, but Drek promised that if he’d made a list, he would get around to having what was necessary ordered. 

What mattered was that he got Victor moving around again, though the robot was disappointed that his jaw would have to wait. If Nefarious could have at the time, he would have given the warbot a complete overhaul to bring him up to modern standards. He would have missed out on even more sleep, but he just couldn’t believe there were still models that old running around that weren’t waterproof.

Qwark started making muffled noises that stirred the scientist from his body’s most recent attempt to force him to get the rest he needed.

Oh. He was holding the pack over Qwark’s mouth rather than his eye.

“I think I subconsciously did that because you wouldn’t stop talking about inane things,” Nefarious explained, moving the pack back to where it should be.

“I have no idea what that word means, but I’ll assume it means “deep and intelligent”,” replied Qwark.

“Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Qwark sat up on his water bed, taking over the task of holding the thermal pad to his face. The sudden jiggling of the mattress almost flung Nefarious off the edge he was sitting on, though Qwark caught him by the shoulder.

“It was pretty nice of you to look after me like this, Nefarious,” he said, hardly recalling a thing about the night before, let alone the fact that the man he was thanking was the one who gave him the shiner in the first place.

Nefarious refused to look at him, especially cranky from the sleeplessness. “The last time I left you alone with a thermal pack, you accidentally turned it to maximum heat and almost gave yourself third degree burns.”

“Aww…” Qwark attempted to drape an arm around Nefarious’ shoulders, but his arm was quickly slapped away the moment the green scientist felt it barely touch his back. The rejection hurt a tiny bit, but Qwark still managed to smile. “I didn’t know you cared like that.”

“It’s not about caring – it’s about the fact that I already have enough work that needs doing without your buffoonery adding MORE!” Nefarious snapped.

Ow. Okay, that hurt more than just a tiny bit. Surprisingly, when Nefarious turned his head, he noticed this in Qwark’s frown and felt a slight twinge of sympathy.

“…All I’m saying is that you should be more careful because it would benefit us _both_.” Was that better, Nefarious wondered?

This time when Qwark lunged in for a full-on tight hug, Nefarious wasn’t prepared. His face turned red, but more from a lack of air than embarrassment because of how strong the captain’s grip was.

“You _do_ care!”

“Let...go of me, you stupid oaf.”

To Nefarious’ infinite relief, he did. The doctor patted himself down to check that there were no broken bones.

“Now I get it!”

Nefarious raised a brow. “Eh?”

“This whole time, whenever you’d call me an oaf, a moron, or something like that, it wasn’t because you didn’t like me! You were just hazing me in the same way I was hazing you! It’s all just a joke between two besties!” Qwark playfully tapped Nefarious’ shoulder with his knuckles. “You don’t think I’m stupid or annoying, –”

“Yes, I do.”

“– you just really, really like me!”

If Nefarious was tired before, now he was fully awake, though he still felt compelled to lay down. Not for the sake of sleeping, but so he could focus all his remaining energy on having an existential crisis. Like male pattern baldness, mid-life crises also often came several years early in the doctor’s family lineage.

Before he could, against his better judgment, lay down on Qwark’s bed for the purpose of reanalyzing his life choices, the robotic voice of the intercom system made an announcement that kept his mind from fleeing reality.

“A visitor for: CAPTAIN QWARK, has checked in, and is waiting at the: FRONT DESK.”

Nefarious eyed Qwark suspiciously, wondering who it could be. Why did it even matter to him? So what if he had a visitor? Qwark had dead end dates, distant relatives, arch nemeses, and a whole laundry list of oddballs show up at random all the time. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and the doctor never found himself caring before. 

He told himself it was because he didn’t want to be bothered any further today; he was already worn out, and whenever someone came to see Qwark, if the spandex-wearing hero didn’t take them elsewhere, Nefarious would either end up getting involved against his will or irritated by all the racket.

“Should I just put the base into lockdown?” Nefarious asked, sighing. After last night, he had the feeling this was a “mortal or immortal enemy” occasion.

Qwark began to tug at the base of his mask around his collar bone, like someone might tug at a shirt collar to relieve themselves of some of the heat built up from anxiety. “No need – I… think I know who that is.”

The captain flopped out of the waterbed onto his feet, once again nearly toppling Nefarious over as the liquid inside sloshed around in waves. He checked his face in the mirror just to be sure that his mask covered up most of the purple bruising from his injury. 

No one would think less of a hero who had “battle wounds”, he hoped, but he was the type who preferred to come out of a bad situation unscathed. Advertisers said it looked better for posters, as it was more appropriate for “all ages”, and it also prevented potential future recruits from being scared away from the dream of becoming a Galactic Ranger one day themselves. Surprisingly, few acknowledged that the job did entail some real danger.

Qwark wondered to himself if it was the drophyd in the robotic suit or the warbot who clocked him. He thought it odd that he couldn’t recall, but figured it was due to all the adrenaline he felt rushing through him in the heat of the epic battle, if one could call primarily running for his life an epic battle. No, he wasn’t being cowardly. What he was using is what was called in the hero business: “Strategy”. Yes, that’s what he would tell the paparazzi. Good thinking, captain!

He couldn’t help but hope that’s who was at the front desk: one of the usual reporters. Something in his gut told him that it wasn’t, though. 

Once Qwark was as photo-ready as he could be, he expected to meet with the new arrival solo, but he noticed that Nefarious, who apparently composed himself in his own fashion while Qwark was busy gussying himself up, was stalking close behind him, glaring at the back of his head in a way that reminded him of a jealous spouse. 

Being the type who couldn’t stay out of trouble, Qwark had the misfortune of becoming quite acquainted with that look. How was he supposed to know that so many of his groupies were already married!?

Qwark kept his pace purposely slow as he went towards his destination, occasionally peering over his shoulder at the scientist who followed him with the poise of a cartoonish space vampire. It was only when Nefarious walked with that characteristic slouch that he noticed the resemblance. 

Perhaps the guy did deserve to at least be considered for taking part in Qwark’s holo-film career, along with the other two Rangers, though maybe as a villain since his “disgruntled, “the only light I see on average is the glow of my computer monitors” IT guy” demeanor wouldn’t be all too inspirational for a general audience. 

Would Nefarious be offended if he proposed that idea? On second thought, maybe now was not the time to bring it up. Never was probably the best time to bring it up, in fact.

“Is… something the matter?” Qwark asked hesitantly, swallowing the lump in the back of his throat.

“I’m curious,” was all the doctor grunted.

Not eager to put his foot in his mouth, Qwark said very little the rest of the trek to the front desk, aside from a few failed attempts to lighten the mood with a joke or idle remark about topics that Nefarious didn’t care to converse about; to each thing Qwark brought up, the doctor only gave a disinterested hum of lukewarm acknowledgment. 

Nefarious was the most difficult person he’d ever tried to entertain, and it made Qwark glad he never pursued a career in stand-up comedy after all. It would be soul-crushing to encounter a heckler who was even close to Nefarious’ level of cynicism. He was the type who turned on Atom Solder shows just so that he could sneer at the bits the entire time and comment on how unfunny they were. 

Qwark hardly ever contemplated much on anything, but the uncomfortable quiet gave him just enough time to contemplate in passing if that might have been why he tried so hard to make the tech specialist crack even the faintest of smiles whenever possible. He always got the feeling that the reason Nefarious behaved like that was because he was desperate for even the off chance that he might enjoy himself, however briefly. 

It was unfortunate that this was one of those situations where none of Qwark’s lightheartedness made an impact, but he blamed it on several factors that were working against his favor.

When the two men arrived at the front desk just past the base’s glorious entrance flanked by statues and awards, they were greeted by a tall young alien woman who gave them a shy wave as she spotted them approaching. Despite her stature, she had the bashful stance of someone who felt much smaller on the inside. 

Even more interesting than the beautiful violet markings that spread across what little was visible of her light gray skin, even framing her adorable face, was that she wore a regal-looking tiara atop her horned head, suggesting she may have a noble background. For many alien species, it wasn’t unusual to hold onto wearable heirlooms and keep them incorporated into their wardrobe for the rest of their lives, regardless of where that life would take them.

Qwark gave her the smile he put on for the cameras, while Nefarious… continued to be himself: not even bothering to alter his sulking stance in the slightest. His judgmental gaze struck fear in her, but she hid it to the best of her ability, straightening her shoulders and keeping her eyes more focused on the captain. She must have seen this as a tactic the Rangers used to get a measure of a person’s ability to resist breaking under pressure.

“I don’t see a camera or a data pad at the ready, so I can only imagine the purpose of your visit,” Nefarious said, walking in a circle around the woman, scrutinizing her intently, before taking his place at Qwark’s side. He then cast a glance at the bulkier man beside him, who didn’t have the courage to make eye-contact, either.

“Dr. Nefarious,” Qwark started to say, holding his hand out to present the unfamiliar woman to him, “meet your new replacement – ah, I mean this is Elaris. She’s going to take your place when you leave.”

So much for Qwark not putting his foot in his mouth.

The doctor’s face paled, mouth hanging agape. He said to Elaris sharply, “One moment,” while holding up a finger, instructing her to wait. Then, he snatched Qwark by the emblem on the spandex covering his chest and dragged the man a few feet away so that they could speak more privately. 

“ _What’s the meaning of this?”_ he hissed quietly. “ _How could you? I’m not even out the door yet, and… and…_ ”

“Nefarious, your two weeks are almost up,” Qwark reminded him, seeming just as shocked, but in his case by the fact that the man was even surprised. 

What else were the Rangers going to do when he left? Board up the broom closet, and place a little shrine outside to remember him by? Obviously, they’d need a new specialist to continue where he left off.

“You could have at least given me a warning, or something!” At the end of his exclamation, Nefarious’ voice went shrill in a way that made it sound like he was just barely holding back from having an emotional breakdown in front of the newbie. 

He didn’t want to be remembered by this Elaris lady as “the weird guy who burst into tears when she showed up to accept the job offer”. He wanted to keep _some_ of his dignity.

It also helped, a tiny bit, to remind himself that in all fairness, he signed a contract for a new job behind Qwark’s back. At least he had something to fall back on, and he couldn’t reasonably be too offended, considering his own actions. Against all reason, he was totally offended and very hurt.

“I thought _your_ two weeks’ notice _was_ the warning!” said Qwark.

Nefarious’ light brown eyes watered behind the glasses he’d placed back on himself before heading out to meet their guest, and he could only hope that the orange tinted lenses did something to obscure that. There was nothing, however, to hide the fact that his bottom lip was quivering slightly, so all he could do was bite down on it painfully hard to keep it in place. 

When he finally let up, a spec of blood was already forming in one spot where his teeth punctured the skin.

“I thought –,” he blurted out, yet cut his words short when he saw the way Qwark was looking at him, like he’d found a lost puppy with an injured paw. “Nevermind what I thought.”

He released his grasp on Qwark’s suit, and the spandex snapped back into place. Qwark reached out to stop him from walking off, but the distance was already too far between them: physically and emotionally. For once, Qwark had the sense to accept that it might be for the best to give the doctor some space.

The captain walked back over to Elaris, who appeared overly concerned by what she could visually make out from the whole exchange between him and Nefarious. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, attempting to laugh it off, but not really having the will to pull it off convincingly. “I actually thought he’d be glad that we’re moving things along, so he can, uh… move on with his life, y’know?”

Elaris’ brow knitted sympathetically. “You mentioned in the email that the circumstances surrounding the recent job opening were pretty rough, but… ouch.” She pointed in the direction Nefarious disappeared to. “Office romances, am I right?” Smiling timidly, she forced herself to chuckle and hoped that the captain would laugh, too.

Qwark puzzled at the comment. “I don’t follow.”

“Oh, uh,” she stammered. “F-Forget I said anything.” After a beat, she clasped her hands together. “So! I guess this is the part where you give me a tour of the place, right?”

The much-needed change of subject, for both their sake, put Qwark in a far better mood. “My favorite part of the hiring process!” he agreed, and after a small preamble from the captain, they were off to explore the rest of the Galactic Ranges headquarters.

Nefarious, on the other hand, took a detour to Qwark’s room, pettily popping the water bed with a pen he had on his person the moment he was inside. He watched as the water unceremoniously gushed out, dampening the clothes and crayon drawings littering the floor of the captain’s private quarters, all while feeling a distinct lack of enthusiasm that wasn’t usual for him. 

Normally, he loved taking passive-aggressive little pieces of revenge whenever he could get it for even the most minor of transgressions, but this was the first time he felt indifferent about the whole thing and possibly even a little regretful since it ultimately amounted to nothing.

With a languid shrug, Nefarious put the pen away, and returned to his room. He told himself he was going to take a nap, but in reality, would spend the rest of the afternoon dwelling on how foolish it was of him to think even for a moment that he was wanted.


	8. Chapter 8

“Son?”

The knock on the door startled the little green alien boy, nearly giving him his first heart attack at the mere age of seven. He powered down his handheld video game console, tossed it underneath his bed, and sat up straight just as the door was opening.

“You had better not be in here playing those horrible electronic games again. They will rot your mind!” snapped his mother as she stepped inside her child’s bedroom, having heard the familiar noises of digital sound effects. She peered around but was disappointed that she didn’t see the handheld system laying anywhere in sight. “And when was the last time you cleaned your resting quarters!?”

“Before Dad left,” the boy mumbled, voice cracking at the recollection of that day. His lips were sealed tight, but his mouth shifted side-to-side and he sniffled, already rubbing his eyes with his fists before tears even started to come out. He was always quick to cry since infancy, but recent events had especially put him under a lot of stress, exacerbating his tendency towards getting emotional.

His mother sighed, and went to his bedside, standing over him with a slightly more empathetic expression on her face. “Oh, honey, do not cry. You are the patriarch of the familial unit now, so you will have to start learning to behave accordingly.”

Why couldn’t his mother ever go easy on him? She always called it “tough love”, the way her parents raised her, but it never motivated him the way she insisted it ought to. It just made him sadder, and more upset at the world.

The boy held onto the hem of his mother’s long skirt as if it were a security blanket, laying his elongated head against her leg. He was comforted only slightly when she felt enough pity for him to reach down and give him a gentle pat on the head. 

“When’s Dad coming back?” he asked hoarsely, drying his eyes against the fabric of her garment.

That was a question that had a complicated answer. It was possible that his father might return one day. Unlikely, but not unthinkable. However, it was probably for the best that he didn’t come back, for a few reasons. At least, that was his mother’s opinion. More harm than good would come of it, surely.

She placed her hands on her son’s shoulders when she took a seat beside him. Even seated, she towered over him. Tallness ran in the family on both sides, but the boy especially resembled his mother. Aside from a few details, they would probably look nearly identical when he was an adult, though she imagined he would wear far less makeup.

“Son, I know you love your father. I still do as well, but he has a lot going on in his cranium that you will not understand until you have reached a more advanced age. I hope you do not put the blame upon me for his leaving,” she said, unsure of how to explain the subject to someone so young. He wasn’t stupid. Granted, he wasn’t as smart as others of their species for his age, but she knew he had paid closer attention to the situation than she wished he did.

In truth, the boy blamed himself more than anyone else. “He doesn’t want us around anymore, does he? He wants to start a new family with that other lady…”

“That is the paradox: I am not certain he ever desired a family at all and, despite his age, wishes to pursue the lifestyle of someone much younger than himself. Utter foolishness!” Upon realizing that her tangent was upsetting her son, the mother calmed down, and hugged him close, rubbing his back. “But his selfish actions are irrelevant, as you are my son, and I will always be your mother. It will be you and I against the galaxy from now on. Is this not acceptable?”

After thinking it over for a while, relaxing in his mother’s arms as she rocked him back and forth, the boy nodded. “I guess that’s okay…” 

Was he even in a position to disagree? He had a feeling that if he said no, that might mean she would drag some strange new father figure into the picture, and he wasn’t sure he’d like that. The boy already felt replaced by his biological father, and he didn’t want to risk having the same happen with his mother. Then who would he have left? Even his imaginary friends left him not too long ago. He’d be all alone.

“Very good,” she said, letting go of him and rising back to her feet. She held out a hand for him to grasp and smiled when he reciprocated. “Now I want you to venture outdoors and interact with the other younglings in our sector.”

He dragged his feet when she began to drag him along with her to towards the back door of their home, but it did him no good. “But Mom! They’re mean to me!” he protested. “I don’t want to play with them! They don’t want to play with me, either!”

“Son,” she said in a firmer tone of voice. “Remember what I said about behaving accordingly. You will do as I ask, and we shall speak no more of this. Now go, and this time take greater care in keeping your attire clean.” Getting the door open, she urged him outside, then shut him out. To the boy, it felt like a betrayal, but what could he do?

With a heavy frown, he looped around to the front of the house to grab his bucket full of chalk from the open garage where his mother’s small ship was parked. He considered leaving a “running away from home” note beside the driver’s side of the ship, where she would no doubt see it the next time she went to work, but put the idea off for now. 

Instead, he carried the bucket with him to a secluded area of the park where he hoped he’d get to draw in peace. Or at least, draw in _relative_ peace. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to escape the troubling thoughts about what things were going to be like for him from now on. 

He just wanted everything to go back to normal. He just wanted to be wanted again if he ever was in the first place.

-

Nefarious stirred from his vexed slumber with a start when a hand shook him awake. He nearly bumped foreheads with whoever woke him up, and it was too dark to see who it was at first without his glasses on and only one of his computer monitors illuminating the room dimly. He wasn’t even sure if there was anyone else there and thought that he might just be imagining shadowy figures in the dark, since his fitful dreaming had left him in an obviously compromised state of mind. 

He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand, gasping for air and only pausing when the “imagined” shadowy figure spoke to him.

“Are you awake?” Of _course,_ it was Qwark, and for some reason, he was holding a small blanket in one hand. Was that the same one Nefarious remembered having draped over him when he woke up one morning? That explained where it came from.

“Well I am _now_ ,” Nefarious groaned, rubbing his aching head. “Look, we _have_ to stop meeting up in each other’s rooms. The other two are going to start asking questions.”

“Other _three_ ,” Qwark corrected him.

“Right. The new girl.”

“Elaris.”

“I remember her name, _Qwark_. Now go back to bed.”

The captain huffed, taking offense. “I _would_ if _someone_ didn’t pop a hole in it!”

Nefarious had completely forgotten he’d done that. “Well then go sleep on the couch in the break room. I had to for ages, so you’ll be just fine for a little while.”

“Elaris already has the couch!”

“What? Why is she still here?”

“She practically lives on the other side of Kerwan, Nefarious. She couldn’t afford to pay for a hotel while waiting on you to –” Although, Qwark caught himself before finishing that statement, the other man already knew where his line of thinking was going.

“To get lost?”

“Well when you put it like that, it makes me sound like a jerk,” Qwark remarked.

“That makes sense, since you are one.”

“Okay, I probably deserve tha –”

“And an imbecile.”

“Nefarious, I’m too tired for this tonight. Can we just drop it for now?”

The scientist didn’t want to, but admittedly he felt more or less the same. “ _For now_ ,” he agreed begrudgingly.

Apparently taking the truce as an invitation, Qwark shoved him to one side of his tiny cot upon crawling into it with him. Nefarious’ first instinct was to start pushing back but trying to move Qwark with the amount of body weight Nefarious had was like trying to move a crash-landed asteroid with your bare hands: It wasn’t happening. Eventually, he just gave up.

“If you tell _anybody_ about this, the authorities won’t be able to identify your body when I’m through with you,” the doctor threatened. He couldn’t believe he was permitting this, but in all honesty, a sleeping companion might help keep the dreams about bad memories at bay.

Nefarious regretted saying anything at all because it made Qwark roll over on his side, and now their faces were only a few inches apart. He didn’t care for the captain’s ignorance about personal space.

“Hey, you’re not my first choice in slumber party pals, either,” Qwark retorted. As a rare thought crossed his mind, he asked, “What was your deal earlier when I woke you up, anyway?”

After bringing the covers up to his chin, Nefarious shimmied as far away from Qwark as he could without falling off the cot, which wasn’t extremely far. “What do you mean?”

With the covers drawn over him like that, Nefarious resembled an ugly giant caterpillar, or maybe a hibernating Z’Grute. Qwark chuckled at that, but Nefarious didn’t catch on to what was so funny – probably assuming that this was the capricious air-headed behavior typical of the captain.

“You looked like you were having a nightmare,” Qwark answered, getting more serious about the topic. As serious as he could be, at least.

“No, I wasn’t,” Nefarious said quickly and defensively.

“Everyone has nightmares sometimes, Nefarious. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare. It was just –”

“Just what?”

“– a bad memory.”

Nefarious rolled over, facing away from Qwark purposely. He figured that since there was no immediate response, he could go back to sleep without any further disturbance. Yeah right.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Qwark didn’t know how to respond to the rejection, but Nefarious was sure that he was rubbing both of his remaining brain cells together really hard to think of some other stupid thing to say that would pester him. He could practically smell smoke from the friction of the thinking process, after all.

“It’s not something I did, is it?”

The doctor had to give the guy some credit for assuming it was his own fault for a change, but he also had to deduct a few points since it also presumed, as usual, that he was the center of the universe. Just because Qwark won the award for Mr. Universe, it didn’t mean that was necessarily _true_.

“No, this happened long before you and I met,” Nefarious confessed.

“Tragic childhood?”

Eugh. The only time Qwark ever hit the nail on the head with any of his conclusions was when it was under the _worst_ circumstances.

“Goodnight, Qwark!” The covers were pulled over Nefarious’ head, but that hardly made him disappear. Especially since the tip of his cone-shaped head still poked out a little.

“Believe it or not, but same, actually,” Qwark continued, ignoring the obvious signals that further discussion was unwelcome.

“What could _you_ possibly know about having a rough childhood?” the skinny green man scoffed.

“My parents died when I was just a baby. Killed in an accident, or so I’m told,” Qwark replied, sounding casual about it in the way someone would if they were trying not to let it break their heart as much as it truly did on the inside.

Whew… So Qwark really was an orphan, and that wasn’t just a farce designed for the sake of publicity. Okay, maybe he did know a thing or two about difficult childhoods.

“And the thing about being raised by monkeys on Florana…?”

Qwark instinctively nodded as an affirmation, even though Nefarious couldn’t see it. “Yeah, that really happened. Wanna see my sweet tribal tattoo?”

“I’d rather not.”

The captain shrugged his shoulders, thinking that Nefarious might change his mind later. “Well, you know my story. What’s yours?”

At that point, the doctor finally slid out of his cocoon, now laying on his back with the blanket just above his waist, hands folded over his chest, and his eyes aimed at the ceiling. “My father left when I was a child. He had an affair with a woman twice my mother’s age, and evidently decided he was happier with her than he was with us.”

“Yikes.”

“I felt terrible for my mother. How was she supposed to compete with a woman who had a longer time to amass greater knowledge, and had much more age speckles on her cone?”

“Her cone?”

Nefarious tapped his own egg-shaped head.

“Oh.” Qwark’s mind had immediately gone elsewhere. “Sounds like the beauty standards are pretty, erm, rough among your people.”

“They are,” Nefarious agreed. “There’s a reason I never want to go back to my homeworld.” He flinched when Qwark touched his arm.

“Aw, don’t say that. I’m sure you’d be considered incredibly attractive back home.” That wasn’t Nefarious’ point, but the compliment still made his face feel flush.

“Nonsense, no one ever –”

“I think you’re handsome.”

Nefarious almost swallowed his own tongue. “Y-You’re just saying that because of that conversation we had yesterday in the ship.”

“No, I really mean it. I used to think you were kind of dorky-looking, but I guess yesterday I saw you in a whole different light.” Qwark couldn’t believe he was telling Nefarious this, and neither could Nefarious. Maybe they both fell asleep minutes ago, and neither were aware they were dreaming yet.

Nefarious took the initiative and reached over to pinch Qwark’s face between his fingertips.

“Ow!”

He then pinched himself just to be sure, which caused him to wince in mild pain.

Alright, so they weren’t dreaming.

Driven by a sense of assertiveness that he’d never felt before, Nefarious cupped Qwark’s jaw in his palms, and leaned forward to capture the other man’s open mouth in his own in an impassioned kiss, keeping his eyes closed so that he didn’t have to look at whatever stupid face Qwark was making as he unexpectedly started to return the favor. 

He never kissed anyone before, and the last person he ever expected to be his first kiss was Qwark, of all people. His own skin was so hot under the surface that he thought he might melt, especially when he felt the brutish captain’s massive hands running down his backside. 

Nefarious flipped the both of them over so that he was laying on top of Qwark’s heaving chest while they continued locking lips, and as far as he could tell (let’s just say that certain things made it obvious), the captain enjoyed the fact that Nefarious was taking lead of the situation they found themselves in that night.

As it turns out, having a sleeping companion _did_ aid in preventing nightmares, but that was primarily because they didn’t end up doing much sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I totally take a lot of inspiration from the movie Coneheads when I imagine what Nefarious' species are like. It's one of my favorite movies of all time, and I can't help but think of him when I go back and watch it!


	9. Chapter 9

“So, does this mean you’re going to stay?”

Nefarious didn’t answer for a long time. He just laid there on the cot next to Qwark, who posed the question, and glanced around the room while sorting out how conflicted he felt. The fact of the matter was that what transpired between them last night changed nothing in Nefarious’ mind in terms of what he thought of his place among the Galactic Rangers. 

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about their leader – that was going to take much more time and soul-searching to figure out, but the one thing he knew for certain was that things probably wouldn’t change, even if he was literally in bed with the guy calling most of the shots. 

One thing Qwark had no control over was the amount of funding the Rangers had. That was up to the intergalactic government, and much of their decision-making was very arbitrary and riddled with blatant corner cutting. The Rangers had gotten by with a shoestring budget in the past, and clearly they expected them to continue on with that tradition, at the cost of better efficiency and quality when it came to something as vital as being the galaxy’s last line of defense.

But come to think of it, when was the last time the Rangers had gotten a call about some critical emergency? It had been over a week since their last real mission. Nefarious didn’t count the incident where they were called to save someone’s pet from a tree, obviously. 

Of course, their funding would continue to dwindle the less they were needed, and since focus had been redirected towards building better robotic emergency first responders, the Rangers would be needed even less as the universe outgrew them. Nobody needed heroes in spandex anymore when problems were more frequently nipped in the bud before they even started. 

Nefarious hated the fact that once again, his mother was right. He was so confident when he left home to become a hero, forsaking the common 9 to 5 lifestyle. He thought himself to be above that. Ordinary jobs were for ordinary people, and as far as he was concerned, he believed he was exceptional. Those who knew him back on his home world disagreed, but he would show them. He had to, for the sake of his own pride.

“You might have considered working for the government directly,” his mother said. “They have a robot-building program. This “hero” business sounds childish, and you are really taking a massive gamble with these “Galactic Rangers”. Please, just this once, listen to my wisdom and do something else with your life.”

Imagine where he might be now, if only he heeded her warning. His inventions might have actual patents and be in wide production by now. He could have become a household name, in a positive sort of way. 

As it stood, the people typically forgot there was even a fourth major member of the Galactic Rangers. When they did remember, it was usually followed by: “Oh yeah. The broody pickle-man who sulks in the background of most of the interviews. What a creep. Couldn’t they get someone more heroic-looking on the team?”

“Nefarious?” Qwark’s voice reminded the scientist that he never responded to the question.

“No.” Even Nefarious was surprised to hear himself say it out loud so bluntly, but it was honest.

“Oh…” Qwark gently slipped his arm out from underneath the doctor’s neck, giving him as much space as could be afforded on the tiny bed. He played with edge of the duvet to ease his tension. “I hope you don’t think that what happened last night was just an attempt at changing your mind. It was really something special, and I don’t say that often about my bedfellows.”

“Spare me the details of your past romantic adventures,” Nefarious grumbled with a sigh, rolling onto his side, facing the wall.

“I meant that as a compliment!” cried Qwark.

“I’m in no mood to be placated by you,” hissed Nefarious, burying his face into the pillow. “Leaving this dump shouldn’t be so complicated. None of this should’ve happened,” he said, more to himself than to Qwark, who took it to heart with hurt feelings.

“Nefarious, I –”

“Put your clothes back on and get out.”

“Just let me finish. I really need to get this off my chest.”

“Go. Away.”

Qwark got the impression from the way that Nefarious was curling his limbs up that he was about to start kicking and shoving him until he got out of the bed if he didn’t go on his own accord. 

Reluctant to doubt his hunch, the captain got out of bed, and started slipping back into his uniform. He’d done the walk of shame multiple times in the past, but this one was the worst of all of them. It occurred to him that he never cared quite as much about his past lovers. Nefarious, on the other hand, felt like a close friend.

“I’m gonna see if Elaris is up, then call somebody to come fix my waterbed,” Qwark said, coming to a halt at the doorway. He glanced at Nefarious, who refused to look at him. “If you… would like a more comfortable place to sleep, at least until you leave, you’re more than welcome to sleep on the other side. As you already know, it’s a big bed. Too much space for me all by my lonesome.”

“Don’t hold your breath, _Qwark_.”

The captain frowned, and even the antenna on his head drooped over sadly. It was worth a shot, he thought. “Well, the offer still stands,” he replied, then he made his leave. 

It was weird, but incredibly lucky that no one caught them in the act, considering that the only thing separating the over-sized broom closet was still just the beaded curtain that hung over the massive explosion-caused hole in the wall. If someone had walked in at that moment, though, Nefarious was sure he probably would have just thrown something at the person and proceeded regardless.

Nefarious had to admit: The absence of Qwark’s presence in his bed made it occur to him how empty it felt with only himself in it, and he wondered how he ever managed to sleep alone. Even if Qwark snored like a beast and drooled like one, too, in his sleep, it was nice to have the warm company.

“QWARK!” The scientist’s voice summoned the captain back to the room.

“Yeah?”

The doctor knew he would regret making this promise. He sat up in the bed, and the covers slid down to his waist. “At the very least, I’ll stay long enough to train Elaris to take my place.” His long ears flicked with uneasiness when he noticed that Qwark’s eyes were fixated on his bare torso. Gripping the covers, he pulled them up above his chest, then waved Qwark away with his hand. “Let me shower and get dressed, then I’ll join the both of you.”

“Can I join you in the shower first?” Qwark waggled his brow suggestively.

That’s when Nefarious drew out his Combuster yet again and fired a warning shot through the part in the beaded curtain, sending the cowardly captain running down the hall. “I hate to say it, but I’m going to miss that idiot.”

–

When Qwark found Elaris, she was already apparently having a pleasant chat with Cora in the break room over a cup of coffee and toaster pastries. The sight made him smile because it just made it easier to picture her as a long-term part of the team. When he tried to envision her face on the posters and billboards alongside the other Rangers, his smile disappeared. Not because she wouldn’t be a perfect fit next to them, but because that was exactly what made him feel conflicted. 

Soon, her smiling and chipper image would overtake Nefarious’ spot, and it wouldn’t be long before the universe they swore to protect forgot all about the existence of “the one guy who stuck out like a sore thumb, anyway” in favor of someone who looked much more marketable in action figure form. That was depressing to think about.

“I see you’ve made a friend already, Ms. Elaris!” Qwark announced to make his presence known as he walked into the room.

Cora gave her leader a sluggish, but welcoming wave along with a crooked smile. She was still in the process of waking up, while Elaris appeared giddy from all the caffeine combined with her excitement about being at the headquarters of the Galactic Rangers.

“Cora here was just telling me all about your campaigns!” Elaris explained cheerfully.

“I left out most of the embarrassing parts,” Cora interjected with a sly smirk.

This piqued Elaris’ intrigue. “Oh really?”

With a nervous titter, Qwark said, “Don’t tell me you told her about the time I disguised myself as a maid to sneak into a villain’s secret hideout.”

Elaris covered up her blushing with a hand as an image appeared in her head. “Okay, you have to tell me: Did the vid-comic’s retelling of that do you justice?”

“Hardly,” Qwark replied, placing his hands on his hips proudly. “I looked way hotter in the fishnet stockings.”

Cora chuckled, nodding her head. “I have to give the captain credit: He pulled it off better than I could’ve. There was _no_ way I was gonna be the one to wear that.” 

When Cora remembered more details about the incident, she continued, “Now I’m going to warn you: As our new tech support, even though you won’t be out there on the field in-person, you’re gonna be doing a lot of following us around using drones and body-cams.” 

She placed a hand on Elaris’ shoulder and lowered her voice to whisper in an almost conspiratorial fashion, doing her best to overcome her sudden fit of giggling. 

“You should have seen the look on Nefarious’ face when the captain dropped his bodycam and accidentally gave Nef an upskirt shot. It left him _shook_ the entire mission. I’d never heard his voice stay so squeaky before. I think it changed his life.”

Elaris’ face had turned such a dark shade that one could hardly even see the markings around her forehead anymore. Apparently, the Rangers were a much more fun-loving group than she anticipated, perhaps expecting them to be much more serious, given their line of work.

Qwark flexed his muscles, planting a kiss on one of his biceps proudly. “I do tend to have that effect on people. It’s a privilege, really, to be the one to help others discover themselves.”

“What are you rambling on about in here?” Nefarious whined, taking his place beside the captain, dressed in a fresh set of clothes. He discovered that his showers were surprisingly quick, if he cut out all the time he usually spent crying on the floor while cold water drizzled over his curled up naked body.

Cora noticed that there was something off about the way Nefarious looked standing next to their captain, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly. It might have just been her imagination, but the doctor’s stance made it seem like he was drawn towards the man’s presence, rather than shrinking away from it. 

She dismissed the speculation as reading too much into things. It might have just been wishful thinking. 

Frankly, she and Brax both were getting tired of the growing tension between Nefarious and Qwark, and as gross as it sounded, the unrealistic thought of them just making up and locking lips was more welcome than dealing with any more of the drama.

“We were just talking about my unparalleled allure,” Qwark responded, flashing a grin at the scientist, and giving him a friendly slap on the back that he didn’t appreciate.

Nefarious gave the big oaf a gentle shove just to tell him to keep his distance. “Yeah right. The cheap letter magnets on the refrigerator over there have more attractive qualities.” Elaris laughed at the joke, but it went right over Qwark’s head.

Alright, thought Cora. Maybe there _was_ something going on here, and her little jest at the nightclub exchanged with Brax wasn’t too far off the mark. Or were they always this way together, and she never noticed up until now?

The doctor said to Elaris, “You have to be firm with him. Otherwise, he gets completely out of hand.” Nefarious fought off the encroaching smile, not wanting the others to think he was content for a moment in his life. 

He had a long-standing reputation of being the team’s cynic, and it just wouldn’t do to let the recruit think otherwise. 

“Anyway, Qwark and I have come to the agreement that I’ll help settle you into the new job before I go. As of now, there’s no definitive day when I’ll be leaving, but make the most of my assistance because I won’t be sticking around forever.”

“That’s unusually generous of you,” mentioned Cora, her voice laced with suspicion.

Nefarious made a slight frown at her. “What can I say? Leaving behind the people I’ve been working with for the past few years is hard, even if I _was_ severely underappreciated during my time here.”

“Aaaand _there’s_ the sour pickle we all know and love,” Cora replied sarcastically.

Qwark took this as his cue to bring both Nefarious and Cora in for a group hug, using his massive arms to pull them closer to himself. The legs of Cora’s chair screeched against the floor before she hopped up out of it to keep from tipping over when Qwark’s arm drew her in like a tractor beam. Both she and Nefarious were utterly miserable in the affectionate headlock they were each put into.

“Now, now,” said their captain. “No arguing in front of the recruit! We want her to know that we’re all friends here in the Rangers!” It was a struggle for him to ignore the fact that Nefarious had started biting his arm to try and break free.

“It’s alright, Captain Qwark!” said Elaris. “I can tell they’re just playing around! Anyway, I’m glad that you decided to stay a little longer, doctor. I’ve always admired your work, and I’d like to get to know you! The real you, not what’s in the media.”

Nefarious took his teeth out of Qwark’s wrist, surprised by what she said. “Really?” She nodded. “I didn’t know anybody in the general public actually paid any attention to what I did for the Rangers…”

“See, Nefarious? You _do_ have fans!”

“Shut up, Qwark.”

“Nefarious, the captain just gave you an _order_ to be nicer around the newbie.”

“Shut up, Cora.”

“Tell me to shut up again and see what happens. When the captain lets go of me, I’ll –”

Qwark sighed. “Do I need to put you two in a time out?”

“No,” they grumbled at the same time.

Elaris giggled, thoroughly entertained by the trio’s antics. Just as Nefarious and Cora were settled down, Brax entered, still in his pajamas with an energy drink held in one hand.

“This the recruit you were telling me about, captain? You didn’t say she was cute,” he blurted out without really thinking. Cora glared daggers at him. “Uh, not that that matters or anything.” 

He approached Elaris and stiffly extended his arm to offer her a handshake, pretending really hard that Cora wasn’t trying to pierce his skull with her stare and that everything was totally cool and not weird. “Welcome aboard, newbie!”

Nefarious, watching with bewilderment as Brax made a fool of himself, mused to himself silently that perhaps his departure might not be so bitter after all. He could only hope.


	10. Chapter 10

“I love your cadet portrait!” Elaris beamed brightly at the smiling green lad in the picture, who now seemed like such a far cry from the man he’d become. She wondered if perhaps one day she might meet this version of Dr. Nefarious, but didn’t get her hopes up, as his jadedness was evidently quite deep.

Nefarious sighed as he, too, took a moment to examine the old picture he had pinned to his cork board on the wall adjacent to his desk, his arms folded behind his back as he leaned in to scrutinize the image with disappointment. 

Now, he felt less angry at his younger self, and more let down that he couldn’t have metamorphosed into who the timidly optimistic young man wanted to ultimately become back then. He was apologetic, even. Could he have done better somehow?

“Don’t mind the mess,” he mumbled, hoping to take Elaris’ attention away from the personal belongings lying about that felt uncomfortably revealing about his life; something he only realized with a total stranger in his lab.

He went to the keyboard at his desk, logged into his computer, and pulled up a series of files he thought might be important for her to see. “I’ll catch you up to speed on the laundry list of improvements that still need to be made to a variety of things around here. Network infrastructure, minor issues with Ranger equipment, blah, blah, blaaaah…”

“You seem like you’re in a hurry to get out of here.” Elaris commented sadly at his eagerness to get straight to the point. She leaned against the desk, using an open hand to support her, while observing the images that popped up on the multiple screens above.

Nefarious’ fingers suddenly locked up at the keys, and he only glanced at the tall woman in the corner of his eyes. “I think you’ll fit in better here than I have over the years,” was his vague explanation, making it sound like he was hesitant to discourage her from picking up where he left off in his work with the Rangers.

Elaris recalled how their morning went, and she just couldn’t see where he got the idea that he didn’t fit in with the other three primary members of the team. She thought they were all having a blast together. It had only been her second day at Galactic Rangers headquarters, and to her, they all appeared to be like family. A dysfunctional one, but what family didn’t have its flaws?

“You know that’s not true,” she said, causing his eyes to go to the ceiling with distaste for where the conversation was heading, but that didn’t stop her from expressing her honest thoughts. She was kind of proud with herself for being so bold for a change. “I mean it. Qwark, Brax, Cora: They like having you around. I could tell.”

“You haven’t been here long enough to know that,” Nefarious retorted. He opened a word processor and began typing in notes for later that Elaris could refer to if necessary. He felt it was a more productive use of his time than paying much mind to this stranger’s attempt to give him counseling that he didn’t need, in his opinion.

“Maybe, but I already feel like we probably have a lot in common personality-wise. And I know that sometimes I jump to conclusions that other people don’t like me,” she said.

The falsely chipper, sarcastic mocking tone that often got a lot of people angry with the doctor came into his voice for a moment. “Well maybe that’s because you try to give life advice to people who didn’t ask!” 

Usually, he didn’t regret getting smart-mouthed with others, but his recent experiences must have defrosted some of his chilly attitude. That wasn’t something he was glad for, but here he was feeling immediately guilty for what he’d said. Whatever had gotten into him lately (besides Qwark), he wished he could give it an eviction notice.

Even Elaris could see his remorse in the way his long ears drooped, which dampened the harshness of his insult. “Sorry, you’re right,” she apologized, shaking her head at herself. “I guess it’s just… Well, us introverts have to look out for each other, right? Or we should, anyway. What I mean to say is: I can really relate, and I’m just trying to help.”

Nefarious sighed through his nostrils as his already bad posture worsened from the weight on his conscience. Locking the computer screen, he motioned towards the beaded curtain (she really didn’t want to ask what that was about) for her to follow him out into the hallway.

As they walked together, he said, “I have no doubt that Qwark has already shown you our armory, but how he views it and how I view it are two different things. I think I should give you my perspective.”

Elaris arched an eyebrow at him curiously but went along with whatever trip he was planning on taking her without argument. Because of her field of study, she was used to hanging out with fellow eccentrics, but something about the doctor was a little out of the ordinary. 

What it was, she couldn’t put her finger on it, other than this idea that nagged at the back of her brain that she should be wary of him. In the case of people like that, sometimes the best thing one could do at the time is just listen to the ranting and the raving and nod their head.

As the two entered the armory, they stepped onto the platform that would ascend into the air in front of a currently empty booth where others might observe practice tests through the glass. Once the platform had come to a halt at the top, weapon racks arose in a semi-circle around one side of it, while on the other side, target practice holograms materialized across the room. 

Some of the holograms were stationary, while others moved around randomly. Some depicted hostile targets, while others had the appearance of civilians, fellow Rangers, or police bots.

“I designed all of this by myself. Some of the funding came out of my own paycheck. Did Qwark tell you that?” Nefarious asked as he skimmed through the available weapons on one of the racks.

“He mostly showed off a few trick shots he knew how to do,” Elaris admitted, having another look at the arsenal herself that she only got to see briefly the first time. She was a mean shot in video games but seeing all this heavy weaponry all in one place in reality was a little intimidating. 

Firing real guns wasn’t the scary part on its own. What really worried her was the potential of accidentally hurting an ally with one of them.

“Figures.” The doctor selected one of the guns, giving it a look of fondness and even going so far as to pet it like it were a sentient creature that could feel affection. 

Elaris imagined this was one of the few times he ever gave anything a genuine smile, at least these days. She liked to think that the picture she saw earlier was genuine, even if the doctor appeared anxious for the photo.

After he was done having a bit of a moment with his weapon of choice, he cleared his throat and said, “I considered shielding you from the truth, but if you are to understand my plight, you have to know it. 

“Frankly, the other Rangers are like petulant children. After about five nanoseconds of play, they get bored of the new toys I slave away to create for them day-in and day-out, toss them right out of the crib, and cry for more. 

“Build me a gadget that does this, make a weapon that shoots such-and-such, I want a helmet that lets me watch holovision in a little square in the corner of my visor – the demands are as endless as they are inane.”

Elaris was about to comment, until she saw that the only reason that he paused in his ramble was because he had to take a deep breath of air before he could go on. Just listen and nod, she reminded herself.

“Did you know that they don’t even _use_ half of my inventions? No, _less_ than half. They have the _nerve_ to call my genius _duds_. Take this one for example.” He held up the weapon in his hands. 

“This weapon is my current favorite. I was so proud of it when, after months of hard work, I finally finished creating it. I was so excited to show it off to them, and… and Qwark said it was… lame! And Brax and Cora _agreed_ with him! They haven’t taken it on a single mission to this date!”

Oh no, thought Elaris, feeling suddenly even more awkward and unsure of what to do. Was he about to start crying? He sounded like he was going to start crying. Would it be weird to hug him? Did she want to? Maybe she should’ve just taken up Gadgetron on their job offer instead.

Trying to be nice, she cautiously patted him on the back, but he stepped out of range while hugging the gun to his chest. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed, ironically much like a petulant child would. She didn’t know if she wanted to chuckle or feel slightly annoyed that he was persistent about being difficult.

“Force of habit,” Elaris explained with a shrug and a slight grin that she threw on to diffuse the tension. “Lots of huggers in my family growing up.”

“Duly noted,” Nefarious murmured, either as if he were envious or perhaps saw that as a character flaw rather than a positive.

“So, what does that gun do, anyway?” she asked.

To her relief, the question got the doctor to come back out of his shell, at least part of the way. “I call it the Sheepinator,” he answered proudly. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

He trained the gun on one of the targets, but not one that she expected him to pick. A beam of light channeled into the hologram of Captain Qwark. Initially, it appeared utterly harmless, but after a time, the hologram was suddenly transformed into a sheep. 

That wasn’t necessarily harmful, but Elaris wouldn’t wish sheepness… sheepanity… the state of being a sheep upon anyone, not even her worst enemies. Actually, she didn’t have enemies now that she thought about it. Most people just ignored her entirely, or if they even noticed her presence, had lukewarm and relatively neutral feelings. Still, living the life of a sheep was probably pretty baaaaad.

“I hope the effects are reversible,” said Elaris, deciding that maybe it wasn’t so bad that he wanted to keep his distance from her. After seeing what that weapon could do, she didn’t want to be its next victim; accidentally or otherwise.

Her fellow scientist shrugged his shoulders and placed the gun back on the rack. “After a few hours. Sometimes it takes days. It really depends on what settings you use, the size of the target, and several other factors. If the Rangers _used_ it, I might consider making the time to install an immediate reversal function, but as it stands, there’s hardly any point. There’s hardly any room in the budget for it, either.”

One of his ears twitched as a frown tugged at the corner of his mouth before he looked back at Elaris seriously. “That’s another thing I have to warn you about. When I took this job, I was _promised_ they were going to build a lab that was _exactly_ to my specifications, until “somehow” those funds got funneled into frivolous additions to the facility, like the company spa,” he said with a snarl at that last part.

The more he dwelt on the things that infuriated him about the Galactic Rangers – especially the captain, the more he wondered to himself how he allowed himself to be charmed by Qwark the night before. Had Nefarious gotten to a point where he was almost starting to _enjoy_ his anger?

He shook off the thought and returned to the point he was making. Elaris blinked at him with concern when he’d lost himself in contemplation for a moment. 

“Anyway, it was suggested numerous times that I could get the bolts that I needed to pay for my lab if I would just sell off the rights to my creations to one of the major tech corporations in the universe. 

“I gave my permission for the Rangers to _use_ my inventions, but I am the sole owner of the intellectual property rights. They may still continue to use what I’ve granted them when I’ve left – they paid for most of it, after all, but the ideas are all mine.”

The recruit was baffled to think that all this time, the doctor was just sitting on a stockpile of potential wealth. She kind of assumed that the Rangers must have had a deal with a manufacturer, but that certainly explained why the man was still operating out of a broom closet and why he was so overworked. 

Having to design all these devices and reproduce enough copies for three other Rangers must have consumed a lot of time and effort. With a manufacturer on board, it would not only make the process lucrative, but also free him up for other projects if he only had to worry about getting to the functional prototype stage.

“But why _not_ make a deal with one of the corporations? I’m sure you’d make more than enough money if you just sold a _few_ of your patents, and then you’d never have to worry about funding ever again! Heck, you could probably retire on what you’d end up making in exchange!” Elaris suggested, but that was hardly the reaction he expected or wanted to hear, going from the look that appeared on his face.

“You sound just like them. I can tell that you’re a few years younger than me and have yet to be as jaded by disappointment. That’s why I’m telling you now, so that you can hopefully avoid as many let downs as I’ve experienced in my career.” His words were harsh and blunt, but Elaris still paid attention despite how much they stung. 

“When you’re broke and fresh out of college, an offer from Gadgetron or Megacorp seems like a lucky break, but are a few bolts worth having your name stripped from the very things you’ve poured your blood, sweat, and tears into, so that some company can slap their own tacky logo on the side?”

The younger scientist thought about it for a while. “I don’t see myself as a greedy person. More desperate, really, but depending on how many bolts we’re talking…” His lips tightened as his frown became more severe. “I’m just being realistic here! A girl’s got to eat, doctor!”

“I’d sooner starve than see my work mass produced and warped into a cheap, knock-off mockery of my genius!” he retorted, reaching up in the air with one hand for dramatic effect.

She didn’t want to be the one to point it out, but it already looked like he was halfway there. He probably _was_ going without food just to invest more of the little he had into his designs.

“I respect your dedication, but honestly, if it ever comes down to it, I might consider taking the first offer I get,” Elaris admitted with a soft laugh. “I’m getting to a point where I’m running out of ideas for new ways to prepare instant noodles.”

It surprised Elaris when Nefarious cracked a smile at that, but it made the conversation a lot less tense for her. He said, “I suppose it’s a good thing that I decided to stick around for a little while longer after all! Clearly you are in _dire_ need of my mentoring.”

Once again, he gestured for her to follow. “Come – I’ll show you my secret recipe for this really wonderful dessert I’ve invented with a brick of instant noodles and a few nearly-expired sweet things I’ve found in the break room pantry.”

“Ooooh. That sounds kind of gross, but also delicious at the same time,” she replied with wonderment.

After the two had sufficiently made a complete mess out of the break room’s microwave – Elaris pleaded they should clean it up, but Nefarious insisted this month was Qwark’s turn to clean the microwave –, they returned to Nefarious’ lab to go over a few things pertaining to her training for the job while they snacked on their gooey dessert.

At some point throughout, Nefarious found himself idly thinking to himself that he would have liked to have a sister like Elaris growing up, or siblings in general. In fact, if she were just a little greener and had a taller head in place of her horns, she would have fit right into his family tree since their height and figures had their similarities. It just would have been nice if he had someone in his life back then who shared his interests like she did.

Then, it hit him. He now understood why he felt so personally wounded by how being in the Galactic Rangers had disappointed him all these years. A part of him was looking for a family unit that he felt like a beloved part of, and that noticed and was proud of his efforts and contributions. 

As an adult, he wanted to fill a void that remained from a childhood that left much to be desired. It might not have necessarily been the Rangers’ fault that they couldn’t provide exactly what he wanted, but deep down, he realized that was what he yearned for more than anything else. 

In a way, going to work for Drek was his way of continuing the search for a family that fit him, rather than feeling like he had to contort himself in a way to fit into the little box of what the Rangers expected or perhaps needed him to be. 

There might have been some truth in Elaris’ observation about the Rangers liking him more than he realized (his unexpected encounter with Qwark still had his head swimming with inner conflict), but that didn’t change the fact that the compatibility issues were glaring. Life was unfair that way sometimes. 

If only he could at least say there weren’t any hard feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: Love Me for What I Am by The Carpenters


	11. Chapter 11

hENLO iz tis TEH GREEN MAN?

Nefarious stared at the message on his phone with squinted eyes, trying to figure out who in the universe could’ve possibly sent it, and wondering what they could have possibly wanted. Did Qwark or Brax get a new number? No, even they didn’t type this poorly, not even as a joke. He sent a message back.

Who is this?

It took longer than it should have for the short reply to return.

dis iz NOT DREK it ME

Before Nefarious could ask who “me” was, they sent another text.

FINN. DREK gav me ur numbr 4 IMPORDENT MISHUN STUFF!!!

Oh, great. Now the trigger-happy drophyd was able to contact him at any hour of the day, too. He glanced back down at his phone when it rumbled in his palm again.

COM BAK 2 KLUB drek sending uz on VERY IMPORDENT MISHUN!!

How dare that slimy little fish tell him what to do? Nefarious sulked as he tapped away on his phone’s virtual keyboard.

Why doesn’t Drek just tell me that himself?

Drek’s messages were a lot more pleasing to the eye, for one, and not a disaster like… whatever she was trying to communicate.

DREK IZ BUZY. VERY IMPORDENT. NO MOAR QUEZJUNZ!! COM NAO!!!

That’s it: Nefarious was initiating the caps lock.

I’M COMING!!!

She responded back after only a few minutes had passed while he was getting ready to leave.

R U HEAR YET?!?

To which he replied:

HOLD ONTO YOUR SEAHORSES! I SAID I’M ON MY WAY!

SEEHORZES R EXTINCTED ON ZAURIK LIK 4EVR AGO WE BLUE DEM ALL UP IN TEH WAR, DUM DUM. U R SPOSED 2 B SMART

Was Nefarious sure that these people were going to be more of a family to him than the Galactic Rangers? So far, the first impressions were a little iffy. He was already wondering if the drophyd’s tank had a temperature control system, and if so, if he could set it to boiling. For solely scientific reasons, of course.

When he was done indulging in a back-and-forth insult competition via text message, he decided he should go on his way before anyone in the Rangers spotted him trying to go somewhere alone. That wasn’t too out of the ordinary, but lately, whenever he ran into one of them, they were sure to engage him in conversation. 

Why they suddenly were so attentive now, he had no idea. Out of paranoia, he feared they suspected he was up to something and no longer trusted him now that he was resigning from his position.

On the way out, he stopped by the armory, and took a few devices with him in the event that they’d be useful for whatever he was being summoned for. Since Finn called it a mission, he expected there to be possible danger. Just the thought of it made his hands shake as he loaded up a metal briefcase with tools and weapons. 

For one, he was surprised that he’d be launched into something so serious so soon, and secondly, he hoped that at the worst, they were being sent off to clear out a pest infestation at one of Drek’s other establishments, or perhaps they were to extract rare materials from some backwater planet.

Once Nefarious felt as prepared as he ever could be, he gripped the handle of his briefcase in both hands tightly, and rushed outside to catch a taxi rather than draw attention by taking one of the small company transport ships that someone might notice went missing.

Upon arrival to Drek’s club on Kerwan, the doctor was allowed inside, and his first instinct was to go up to the bar. The robot woman, Rita, wasn’t there as he expected; instead, it was some blarg man serving drinks.

“Finally! I was starting to think you bailed on us!” came a voice from behind him, but he couldn’t even turn around to look, as he was dragged into the back room where he recalled repairing Victor not long ago.

Nefarious stumbled when he was let go of after the door was shut behind them, and now he could see that it was the drophyd who took him here. She smiled excitedly from the confines of her orange tank at his presence, totally oblivious to how annoyed he was at being manhandled. Fishhandled. Whatever.

“I said that I was coming,” the doctor grumbled, peeking inside his briefcase for a moment to make sure nothing was damaged.

Before he’d even finished that sentence, the drophyd had already lost interest in what he had to say, and was now rummaging around in some of the crates that were kept in this storage room that was off-limits to non-employees. Nefarious watched her with a sense of bewilderment.

Bottles rattled from the first she stuck her mechanical suit’s claw into. That wasn’t what she was looking for, so she hobbled her suit over to the next to check it. This one was full of boxes of supplies. Not it, either. Finally, when she dug through the last crate, a look of mischievous delight appeared on her face.

It was a bandoleer filled with grenade rounds for her launcher. She strapped it around her suit’s torso and twisted its metal body around to admire the new addition as if it were a lovely new outfit. Leaning back into the crate, she switched out one of her pincers for her primary weapon and loaded it full of more rounds. Apparently, Nefarious was right to bring artillery of his own. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked over to the crate to see what all was inside. If Finn hadn’t moved aside the packages of snack foods to get to the contents at the bottom, Nefarious wouldn’t have considered for a moment that the crate was packed with explosives. Even with the drophyd standing right next to him, he had to know what was really in the others.

Ammunition for a variety of standard guns that were on the market was in one, and the weapons that were compatible with them were in the other. When Nefarious glanced around the room, he saw that there were several crates still sealed, but he hadn’t the courage to start popping them open when it was just him and the unhinged drophyd that was about as heavily armored as a tank back here. 

His first idea for an imagined end was the thought of her tying him up with the bandoleer, sealing him in the crate with the grenades, and firing one round into the room while she walked away without a scratch. He shuddered at that and moved away from the crates.

“Drek’s pretty smart, huh?” she bragged on her boss with a smirk and a wild look in her bulbous eyes.

“Y-Yeah,” agreed Nefarious with a crack in his voice as he tugged at his collar. It pained him to give anyone credit towards their intelligence, as it made him insecure about his own level of genius, but now was hardly the time for the ego to get the better of him. His shaking fingers fidgeted with the latch on his briefcase, and he instantly regretted having done that because the clicking noises drew her attention.

“Since you looked in our boxes, can I look in yours?” The drophyd stomped over to him without the eager smile leaving her face for a moment, and her pincer grabbed and flipped open the latch for him. He caught the bottom of the case to keep what was inside from rolling out onto the floor.

I don’t want to die, were the words that went through his mind on a loop. He screwed his eyes shut, and just let Finn carelessly poke around in the case. 

It was difficult to resist wanting to shout at her, since he never liked it when people touched his belongings, and it was humiliating to have to just stand there and accept it while his knees quaked. He thought he’d gotten past this part in his life, but he suddenly felt like a helpless child all over again.

“Ooooh! What’s this one?” When Nefarious opened one eye to see what she was so excited about, she was holding aloft one of the weapons he’d packed into the case.

Nefarious swallowed, and slowly shut the briefcase. “That’s the Pyrociter. I created it myself about... two years ago? Good for crowd control. It emits a flame jet that –”

If the drophyd’s eyes got any bigger, she might float to the top of her tank. “IT’S A FLAMETHROWER!? I LOVE FLAMETHROWERS!” She calmed down a bit, and mentioned, “I used to have a Pyro Blaster before I went to prison. Drek got me this grenade launcher, and it’s good for medium range, but it’s just not the same.”

The front of Finn’s suit drooped forward sadly when she handed the Pyrociter back to its rightful owner. “Promise me you’ll let me try it out sometime. Drek would get mad if I tested it out back here. He’s already still mad about the incident with the bar. Not the incident with your friend in the green tights, but this one time when I dropped a match behind the bar counter and –” She trailed off, having completely lost her train of thought. “Anyway, that’s why the club doesn’t offer complimentary matchbooks anymore.”

So, the drophyd wasn’t trying to intimidate him after all. She was only curious and lacking in personal boundaries.

It was probably a terrible idea, but Nefarious handed the Pyrociter back to her. “Here. Keep it.”

She held it in her arms like a newborn baby. “Whaaa? You mean it?”

“I can always make another, if I’m actually going to be getting the kind of funding that Drek promises” he said with a casual shrug. He was supposed to arm is new team now, wasn’t he?

“Victor said you were a cool guy after you repaired him! This totally proves he was right!” The exaggerated way in which her suit jumped into the air and clicked its heels together made Nefarious surprisingly happy himself. He’d never seen anyone get so excited over his inventions before. 

When it came to the Galactic Rangers, for them, the importance weighed more on how cool they looked while using his devices. Finn was hugging the Pyrociter like it was the best present she’d ever gotten. She retracted the grenade launcher attached to one of her suit’s arms and equipped the Pyrociter. 

With an approving nod, she deemed it a worthy attachment. Something that had been missing from her life for a long time (as far as drophyd go) had been restored.

Victor barged into the room and in his gruff voice grunted at the two, “Ready to go?”

“I’m always ready for action!” declared Finn, hopping out the door past the red warbot.

Victor tilted his head in the direction of the exit so that Nefarious would hurry it up, and the doctor went along, bringing his briefcase with him. The case felt heavier in his hand, even though it contained one less weapon to weigh it down. He was terribly nervous, and he hated himself for that. The potential danger wasn’t what scared him the most, but rather the potential failure. He didn’t want to make an idiot of himself on day one.

The two enforcers lead him to a ship that wasn’t much larger than the one the Rangers used for local jobs and recreational affairs, but it was considerably more battered and possibly once belonged to some moving company.

Victor got into the backseat first, then the drophyd playfully shoved Nefarious into the center before climbing in herself. It was suffocating to be squeezed between two metal bodies with a case uncomfortably pressing against his chest and legs, but Nefarious only grumbled a few complaints that neither picked up on.

The driver of the vehicle turned around and smiled at the three in her characteristic toothy and sickeningly adorable way. Nefarious wondered why Drek’s secretary was their chauffeur for the night. How many jobs did this woman have?

“Does everybody have their seat belts on?” she asked sweetly.

Finn, after being reminded, put hers on obediently, as did Nefarious just to humor the woman, but Victor grumbled noncommittally with his head propped up against the window. The robotic woman gave him a cold glare that surprised Nefarious.

“Put on your seat belt, Victor,” she insisted, one hand tightening around the steering wheel so hard that the fake leather squeaked.

Victor’s petulance dissolved in an instant, and now he was hurrying to get the seat belt to click into the holster that secured it. “Y-Yes, ma’am.”

Nefarious looked at the woman again, seeing that her face had softened again prior to her turning back around and starting the vehicle. What was she capable of that made even an old warbot so afraid? He decided he didn’t want to find out, so he sat quietly in the back with his head down.

They didn’t get far in their trip before Finn and Victor started chattering at each other as if Nefarious weren’t even there, rambling about some sport that was on holovision last night. Nefarious wasn’t the type to care for sports – he was too frail to play them himself and brought back bad memories from his high school days, so he had no idea what they were talking about most of the time.

The pair only got to be totally unbearable when the conversation ended, and they instead began to play a game that for some reason involved punching each other whenever they saw a passing vehicle of a specific class. It was like sitting in the back seat with Qwark and Brax, and that thought made Nefarious all the more worried that switching jobs was a mistake.

As the two mechanical behemoths got increasingly rowdy, Nefarious became less confident that he wouldn’t get injured accidentaly from being in the middle. He had to say something.

“Will you idiots cut it out already!?” he snapped, but he was totally ignored as the kept on. His words were drowned out by their announcements of passing ships and laughter.

Rita slowed their ship down to a stop at the red light ahead and took the opportunity to turn her head towards the backseat again. “Guys, calm down. You’re scaring him.”

Nefarious sulked, clutching his briefcase. “I’m not scared, just irritated!” Although, if he were scared, which he totally wasn’t, wouldn’t anyone be intimidated in his situation?

The feminine robot snorted with amusement, and Nefarious even swore he heard her make an “awww” sound.

Don’t patronize me, he thought bitterly.

She patted the seat next to her. “Come sit up front, if you want.”

Nefarious weighed his options and decided that it probably was safer and less noisy up there. He squeezed out from between the two enforcers, and climbed into the front seat with some difficulty, since the ship had started to accelerate again to keep up with the rest of the traffic. The hardest part, aside from maintaining his precarious balance, was getting the case he carried with him to fit between the seats, but he managed.

The moment Finn noticed the change of seating arrangement, she forgot all about her play-fighting with Victor. “Hey!” she shouted, holding Victor’s wrists in place to “pause” their game. “How come the new guy gets to sit up front!? I don’t ever get to sit up front!”

Without taking her eyes off the ship in front of her, Rita said, “It’s because you don’t fit in your suit, Finn! I’d let you sit up here with me all the time if you could!”

Finn was sad over the answer for a total of five seconds, until she saw a particular class of ship speed by, and her jaw went slack. “HEY, VIC! THERE GOES ANOTHER ONE!” And she and Victor went back to pummeling each other senselessly.

“Are they always like this?” Nefarious asked Rita quietly, setting his case down on the floor and barely leaving much space for his long legs to stretch out.

“Mmhm,” she replied casually, continuing to focus mostly on driving.

“And it doesn’t bother you?” he added skeptically.

“Warriors will be warriors,” was all she had to say on the matter, but Nefarious sensed that it did irritate her at least a little. He wasn’t sure if he envied or pitied her patience.

“So where are we going, anyway?”

“Finn didn’t tell you?”

“I think she forgot to.”

“That happens sometimes. She’s really sweet once you get to know her, but she gets carried away easily.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

They turned on a corner, and Nefarious noticed they were going through a more rundown part of Aleero City that was never shown in travel guides or in news coverage for the specific reason of assuring tourists that the city was the immaculate jewel of the Solana Galaxy. The Rangers sometimes came to this area on business, usually to either investigate or handle crime too severe or tricky for police officers.

Most of the district consisted of industrial buildings that were abandoned or on the steep decline towards bankruptcy. They were some of the city’s first businesses to be established before Aleero saw a boom in population. Shopping centers and leisure services came into high demand, and factories were on their way out – to other planets where production costs were cheaper and where the people who could complain about all the smog were a smaller voter base for mayoral or presidential elections. 

Nefarious had no doubt that the decline in local crimes the Rangers were dispatched to had a lot to do with the fact that most of the criminal activity now in Aleero was white collar, and sadly, showing up in heavy armor to aim a blaster at some accountant for fudging numbers didn’t make for a great news story that made the folks at home feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know that there were heroes looking out for their best interests. Though, Nefarious would have found that to be great fun, but nobody ever listened to his ideas outside of tech design.

“Our boss doesn’t just own his own company; he also invests in several other corporations,” said Rita. “One of them is deep in debt, and that’s put Mr. Drek out of a lot of money. There’s talk of the place shutting down permanently, and the owner’s been flighty about discussing compensation for the bad investment. So, Drek wants us to take back the equipment that he paid for before it gets shipped off elsewhere and we never see it again.”

Nefarious squinted at her. “That doesn’t sound particularly… legal.”

She grinned. “I thought you Rangers were technically above the law.”

“Former Ranger, but yes – to an extent,” he admitted. “So just the four of us are going to pull this off? I’m not hauling anything – I’m making that clear right now.”

Rita giggled. “That’s fine; you won’t have to. It’s not just us who’s going, by the way. There’s another ship full of blarg that’s heading there now from another route. Draws less attention that way. They’ll do all the hauling.”

“Then what am I here for?” Nefarious arched his brow.

“Well, we have to see how we all work as a team on the field, don’t we?” she asked. “Plus, we need you there to help us identify what we need for our project on Quartu – Drek’s home planet. I don’t know if he brought it up with you yet, but he wants you to build a new series of security bots for his resorts. We’re going to need to expand and upgrade Drek’s main factory on Quartu to do that.”

Did Nefarious miss a text from Drek? He hoped not. He was too proud to admit that he knew nothing of this part of the plan; it might make him look incompetent, and that wasn’t the first impression he wanted to leave on his new boss or his other employees.

“I’m guessing you’re our getaway driver,” Nefarious presumed. It felt so surreal to be on the opposite side of the law. As lawless as the Galactic Rangers could be, they were still considered to be “the good guys”. Drek’s line of work was evidently a more morally gray area.

Rita laughed. “You’re so adorable.” Before he could object, she pinched his cheek and wiggled it affectionately. It hurt badly since her fingers were made of metal.

Nefarious was just thankful that Finn and Victor were too busy wrestling like dogs fighting over a chew toy to notice that he was getting friendly attention from Rita, even if he didn’t want it like they seemed to. 

He rubbed his cheek, wincing at the lingering pain from when she finally let go. What was so funny about what he said?

The ship came to a sharp stop in the back of some factory that had clearly seen better days. Rita reached across Nefarious to access the glove compartment and pulled out a small blaster equipped with a silencer. He could only stare in fascination while she checked its working condition quickly and casually while humming a brief tune.

“We’re here!” she finally announced in a cheerful tone that would be more appropriate for a road trip or family vacation. “Everybody out!”

What had Nefarious gotten himself into?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy spaghetti - I didn't expect this chapter to be such a long one, but I hope you like it! Thanks again to all the wonderful people who read my stories! Have fun!

In a past that now seemed ages ago to Dr. Nefarious…

Today was the day: Nefarious’ first mission with the Galactic Rangers. This was his final test, and if he succeeded, no longer would he be just a cadet. He was getting tired of being referred to by that title, because it was often said in a way that made him feel belittled, but maybe that was just his tender ego exaggerating the littlest of things, as it often did.

The three Rangers and their cadet were already halfway towards their destination, with Cora driving the transport ship. She was the fastest pilot among them, and probably the safest, though that wasn’t saying much; all the Rangers were reckless. As Nefarious was stuck having to listen to Captain Qwark and Brax Lectrus warble their theme song while he was sandwiched between the two muscle-bound brutes in the back seat, it was easy for him to understand why that might be the case; that sort of behavior was encouraged and treated like a badge of honor.

“And everywhere you Rangers go,

Always do what’s right!

To bring peace to all the galaxy,

You must be strong of will and great of might!

Galactic Rangers! Fight! Fight! Fight!”

When Qwark and Brax were finally done with the song, they bleated out noises of excitement, and began to conduct an overly complicated fist-bump that only they and Cora knew. They said that when Nefarious became an official Ranger, they would teach it to him as well, but the doctor couldn’t have cared less about such trivial nonsense. 

He didn’t come here to become like the jocks who bullied him in high school back home; he came to make a name for himself as a respectable scientist, so that his mother would stop calling him a disappointment - … So that he could move on with his life.

“Ow!” Nefarious rubbed the spot on his head where Brax and Qwark collectively knocked him with their wildly swinging fists. 

He first glared at Brax, but then shared his ire with Qwark, too. His gaze lingered longer on the latter, who had done the most of all three Rangers to cultivate a grudge. Cora was the type who would make a playful comment or two to haze him, and then leave him alone. Brax was the sort who was easily encouraged to “joke around”, especially when Qwark was around, but knew when to stop. Qwark, however, never knew when enough was enough.

“My bad, cadet,” said Brax, slightly guilty.

“In our defense, your head’s hard to miss,” said Qwark, snickering. Brax tried not to laugh, knowing that it would be mean, but Qwark’s charisma was too infectious not to let a chortle slip out.

Violent tendencies in Nefarious were extremely rare, and he only had a handful of incidents where his stress levels got that bad in his younger years. No one in this galaxy, or any other that he’d been to so far, ever made Nefarious want to strangle someone more than Qwark, and his eagerness to do so shocked him whenever he caught himself in the middle of a murder fantasy like the one he was having right now.

Nefarious kept telling himself that his intense feelings as of late were all normal, and that they would pass. This was his first real job – the start to his career. Of course he was going to be high strung until he adjusted.

He had to believe this, because otherwise, he was going to have a total breakdown if things got any worse.

“Calm down, Nefarious. It was an accident,” huffed Qwark, rolling his eyes. “No need to get your undies in a bunch.”

The doctor just scowled and tucked his hands under his armpits, hunching over in his seat even more than he was before. He felt a sudden weight on his shoulder, and realized it was Qwark leaning an arm against him. The captain just kept on pestering.

“Y’know, I never thought to ask until now, but is Nefarious your first name or your last name?” Qwark wondered. “Actually, is it even part of your real name at all? Honestly, you look more like a… Steve to me.”

Nefarious opened his mouth to reply.

“– or a Percival.”

Qwark never knew when to shut up, either.

“Does it matter? Just call me what I tell you to call me,” the green scientist snapped. “I don’t want anything to do with my family anymore, anyway.”

The comment drew Brax’s attention, and he watched Qwark’s face for a moment worriedly. The two had been friends for some time now, and Brax was aware of how touchy a subject that could be with the captain.

“I’m just gonna listen to some tunes,” Brax mumbled, putting a pair of headphones on as an excuse to dodge being a part of the awkward conversation.

Qwark frowned at Nefarious. “You should feel lucky you had parents! Not everybody gets that opportunity, you know.”

“Bah,” spat Nefarious, turning his head away. “I would’ve been better off never knowing them.”

“You don’t know that,” Qwark argued.

“And neither do you, so shut up,” the doctor hissed.

For once, Qwark did. And for the rest of the ride, Qwark and Brax stared out the windows on either side of the transport ship, finally giving Nefarious enough space to be comfortable. Maybe he should stand up to the captain more often, he thought. It got better results than just rolling over and taking the abuse.

If only he knew at the time that Qwark had tears in his eyes; he might have felt differently about the man back then. Perhaps he would have seen him in a more empathetic light. But the past was the past, and nothing could change that.

“Alright, boys, let’s get a move on,” Cora said when she parked the ship at their destination and readied her blaster. “Captain, you lead the charge.”

When the four of them went barreling into the villain’s lair, everything went fantastically at first. It was like something out of the vid-comics: high-octane action, hot blasters, and cheesy one-liners being cracked all over the place alongside the skulls of evildoers. Nefarious wasn’t sure where it all went wrong.

One moment, he had split off from the team to hack into the main chamber where their target was hiding and was almost close to succeeding, then before he knew it, he was taken prisoner himself by the bad guy’s alien guards, and thrown into the same holding cell as the galactic president’s daughter to await rescue. It was the most humiliating day of his life.

Qwark, Cora, and Brax never let him live that day down, but out of pity and confidence that he would do better as a remote operative, they still let him be their fourth Ranger. From that point onward, he certainly always felt that he was in fourth place. 

And just like in most sports, being fourth didn’t win you any medals or fame. It only left the bitter taste of what could have been and almost was.

-

Meanwhile, in the present day…

Rita, Nefarious, Finn, and Victor were standing at the backdoor of the decrepit factory. Victor had a finger on a button on his audio receptor, and was muttering something to one of Drek’s blarg lackeys via a communicator link, while Rita was fishing pieces of something out of her purse that she began to assemble into one whole. Finn didn’t do much of use; she only fidgeted impatiently, looking like she was about to pop out of her tank if she had to wait any longer for them to break in.

“Our blarg boys are on the other side of the building, so we’re gonna meet up with them somewhere in the center, if possible,” said Victor after ending the transmission.

“Drek says it’s _my_ turn to lead the blarg,” Finn reminded him with a childish tone. “You got to do it last time we were on a mission.”

“Yeah, well, I think they like taking orders from me better,” Victor argued.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

Nefarious shushed them and gave the two the glower his mother always gave whenever she’d caught him misbehaving. He was pleased to see it worked on them, too.

The doctor turned back to watch what Rita was doing, and by now, what she was putting together was all too familiar. He couldn’t believe it. It was the prototype Trespasser that had been stolen from Gadgetron’s development facility a few years prior. The Rangers had been trying to discover the identity of the thief ever since then, but had little luck and faced a great deal of mockery each time the device was suspected to have been used in major heists that had also thus far gone unpunished.

“How did you get that?” he asked, pointing at the device in all its fully assembled glory. 

Having seen in reports how quickly and easily that thing could crack through security systems, he was envious of how much it blew his own hacking prototype made in his cadet days out of the water. If he had something like that back then, he could have been regarded an equal to the other Rangers.

Without saying a word, Rita gave him a clever smile, and proceeded to jam the head of the device into the backdoor’s lock, getting to work on breaking in.

Nefarious understood her role now. She wasn’t a bartender, a secretary, or a driver; she was Drek’s personal thief. So that settled it – he was allied with criminals now, and by association, a criminal himself. 

Sure, he could bail out now, return to Rangers HQ, tell them everything, and for a brief while maybe even get some credit for solving a long-unresolved case. But he had already signed a contract with Drek, and he had no doubt that if he snitched, he’d be dragged down with him. The contract bearing his signature would be used as evidence of being in conspiracy with Drek, and that was all that was all that would be needed to thoroughly ruin him for the rest of his life.

“Don’t worry – you’re one of us now,” said Rita, sensing the scientist’s anxiety.

“Yeah, forget the Rangers,” Victor chimed in, clapping Nefarious on the shoulder with a massive metal hand. “You’re in the real big leagues now. We do all kinds of jobs: Protection, extortion, heists, smugglin’ – you name it, we get it done. What do the Rangers do these days? Sit in an office all day, just waitin’ an’ waitin’ for that phone ta ring? Meanwhile, Drek always keeps us busy. An’ keepin’ busy means makin’ bolts. Lots of ‘em.”

“I’m saving up for my own warship,” said Finn excitedly at the mention of money.

“Mine’s gonna be bigger,” said Victor proudly, and with both knowing that he had a head start over her on savings, that took some of the wind out of Finn’s sails.

Nefarious had to admit that the lucrativeness of the position he now found himself in was very enticing, even if he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the morality of it all. Was it better to be known as a criminal than a hero? Did it even matter, if it would get him to where he wanted to be in life?

“I could certainly use the money,” he agreed reluctantly. “One day, I’d like for my inventions to turn me into a household name. I thought being in the Rangers would do that, but it hasn’t even after all this time.”

He thought bitterly: But the infamy brought on by turning traitor from their ranks might.

Dismissing the notion, he heard a single affirming chirp from the backdoor’s lock, indicating that access had been granted. Now their resident thief, whom Nefarious figured out must be the true leader of their troupe, wasn’t distracted, he felt compelled to ask, “What about you, Rita? What do all these bolts mean for you?”

She unassembled the Trespasser slowly and methodically, each piece going back into her purse, as she thought about her response. “It pays the bills.”

How expensive were her bills?! Nefarious thought he wasn’t going to pry any further, but he uttered sarcastically, “What, do you live in a mega-mansion or something?”

Finn cut in, “Nah, me and Rita live in a condo by the seaside. It’s not all that big.” Victor ground his rusty, damaged jaw as he leered at the drophyd jealously. “It’s her _sister_ that’s a drain.”

Rita also gave Finn a disapproving look, but for different reasons. 

Finn shrugged. “What? It’s true. Besides, she doesn’t like that we’re together, anyway. I don’t think she’ll ever like me.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Rita. “She’ll come around one day. You can’t blame her for being mistrusting of organic life forms.”

“Yeah I can,” said Finn bluntly. “It’s wrong.”

“You don’t like the Terakklon,” Rita pointed out.

Finn sighed. “That’s different. They started a war with us.”

Rita looked skeptical. “You told me the drophyd started the war.”

“Whatever – it’s not important right now. Let’s just get going before anyone catches us standing around out here.” Finn waggled like she was swimming in place in her tank, embarrassed to be having this argument in front of Nefarious and Victor.

“Wait,” said Nefarious. He knelt on the ground to open and retrieve something from his briefcase. It was a small, simplistic robot that began to hover above his hand as soon as he turned it on. “Let me send this inside first to scout for threats. It probably won’t look out of place among any repair bot.”

Victor snickered. “Lookin’ at the outside of this dump, I think an actual repair bot _would_ stand out.” Rita frowned at him for saying this.

“Good thinking, doctor” said Rita, quickly getting over her upset. “Go ahead – we’ll wait.”

Finn made an impatient noise, bubbles rising to the top of her tank from her frothing mouth. “I’m so tired of waiting!”

“Cool it, Finn. It’s no big deal,” grumbled Victor. In truth, he was equally antsy to just barge in.

Nefarious only allowed the backdoor to slide open enough so that he could release the bot inside, then hurriedly hit the button to close it again. He turned on his smartwatch and set it to the camera feed coming from the tiny robot’s optics, covering up the glow of the small screen strapped to his wrist with his hand.

Inside of the factory, there were dozens upon dozens of robots. It almost gave the doctor a start when he thought for a second that they were the security, but he was relieved to see that they were all inactive and waiting to be sent along the rest of the assembly line to be completed during the next scheduled work shift. 

That they were at a robot factory didn’t surprise him, but what did was what _kind_ of robot they were. They were all beautiful in their own unique way. Most were female, some were male, and a few were androgynous – perhaps being neither or both.

Then Nefarious remembered something Rita had said to him before when they had first met. “Rita, didn’t you say you were manufactured somewhere not far from Drek’s nightclub?”

She purposely evaded the question. “So, is the coast clear, or no?”

Because she now held her blaster in her hand again, having gotten it back from her purse after taking apart the Trespasser, he knew now would be a bad time to make her mad.

“We’re good to go in, but remain on the cautious side, just to be safe,” he said.

Though Nefarious meant no offense, Rita took it as him being condescending and doubtful of her abilities. “If I can slip past the Rangers, I can slip past anyone,” she reminded him.

Nefarious got a little flustered himself when she dismissively brushed past him with her head held high and silenced blaster at the ready, strutting through the back entry with the confidence of one who was self-sufficient – team or no team. 

Before he took off after her, Nefarious got his Combuster out of his case. Finn and Victor were lumbering sluggishly behind to make as minimal noise as their hulking mechanical bodies possibly could, but Nefarious, being fully organic and lightweight for his height, was easily able to sprint without there being much sound to his footsteps.

“I don’t understand it,” Nefarious whispered to Rita, so that the two enforcers who lagged several feet behind couldn’t overhear the conversation. “How is this business failing? Aren’t socialbots in high demand?”

“Not since we got more legal freedoms over the past few years,” Rita murmured in a humorless tone as she crept on ahead across the catwalk. It didn’t take his genius to figure out what she was implying.

“O-Oh,” stammered Nefarious, feeling ashamed for asking. “Were you...?”

“I was one of the lucky ones. I used to work in a call center,” she replied flatly.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Nefarious. “Why did you quit?”

She scoffed but wasn’t entirely surprised that he didn’t understand what it was like. “After a while, you get tired of callers making comments like: ‘You have a cute voice.’ and ‘What’re you wearing?’ It wasn’t that kind of hotline; I worked in the billing and sales department for a holovision service provider.”

Nefarious cringed. “Eugh.”

“ _Yeah._ ”

“And has working for Drek been a better experience?”

Rita pursed her lips as much as the rounded front teeth would permit. “It has its ups and downs.”

“But you don’t get harassed anymore, at least, right?”

She smiled as if he’d just told a great joke, but her luminous blue eyes were dimmed sorrowfully. “When you’re a hotbot, that kind of thing is a given. The laws can be whatever they want to be, but that doesn’t change how people see you.”

Nefarious frowned, too. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

They both stopped and turned their heads when they heard a loud clanking sound approaching. Apparently, Finn no longer cared about maintaining their stealth, having picked up on the fact that they were muttering about something. Rita wasn’t too happy about all the noise but was more concerned about what was wrong with the drophyd.

“Rita, is he bothering you?” asked Finn, holding up her suit’s arms in a way that made her look bigger and more imposing.

The scientist rolled his eyes. “Relax – I’m not hitting on your girlfriend.” Now he knew why Finn was rude to him when they met at the bar; she must have thought he was trying to flirt with her partner. “We were only discussing our mission.”

The mechanical suit Finn was in lowered its arms back down to its sides. “Oh.” She looked to Rita for confirmation, and the robot nodded agreeably with what the doctor had said.

“It’s boring stuff, honey,” Rita assured her, reaching up to pat her tank with her free hand. By this time, Victor had finally caught up with them, his cooling fans whirring as he huffed and puffed.

Rita glanced over at him. “Victor, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the warbot said breathlessly, not that he technically had breath. “I’m fine. It’s just dusty in here,” he lied to save his pride. He was long past retirement age, much less his warranty, but he’d never concede to that in his lifetime.

Something trickled onto Victor’s head, causing him to jump with a gasp as he reached to touch his head. “Water!” he croaked fearfully. “There’s a water leak in here!”

The other three in their group looked up, seeing that a machine that towered all the way up to the next level of catwalks above them was dripping black liquid from a damaged valve.

“It’s oil, Vic,” said Finn with a laugh. “You _like_ oil.”

The crimson warbot grumbled, embarrassed. “Yeah, but I _hate_ water. It’s wet, it’s usually polluted, and it makes me rust everywhere! Good ta know it’s not water… Anything but water.”

“You won’t have to worry about water for much longer if Drek can get me what I should need to fix that,” said Nefarious. 

He had to remind himself how extensively he might have to overhaul the warbot just to make him waterproof like newer robot models, and he wasn’t sure how high a total system failure risk that might pose to the old machine. “But, of course, I can’t promise anything. I’ll do what can be done, at least.”

“Thanks, doc,” Victor replied, happy enough with that promise. A chance of improvement was better than nothing at all. He might even feel a little younger after the process. That would be nice.

Victor’s eyes brightened when he received another transmission from the blarg. He leaned against the guard rail, and the other three joined him in peering down at the group of bright red blarg on the catwalk below, waving up at them. Finn waved back.

Nefarious leaned over too far against the guard rail, which wasn’t built tall enough for his stature, and something slick under his foot threw him off balance when he tried to readjust his footing – more oil. With a terrified shriek, he fell over the rail. 

He cursed himself for not designing his new boots to have better slip-proofing, and for making his new glasses fixed to the band he wore around his tall head; he didn’t want to see his own death with perfect clarity, and would have rather they came off in the fall. So, he just shut his eyes tightly in anticipation of his gruesome end.

It took him a moment to notice that Victor caught him by the ankle and was in the process of trying to pull him back to safety. The blarg on the catwalk watched with a series of gasps and mutterings, like they were an audience to a space opera. Though, there wasn’t much any of them could have done to help from their position. Still, Nefarious didn’t appreciate that one of them had taken out their phone to capture the moment; this wasn’t exactly a highlight of his life.

“Pull me up!” Nefarious yelped helplessly, panicking at how much his body was swaying. He swore under his breath when the briefcase fell out of his hand and crumpled up in the gears of the machine he only now saw was at the bottom of the drop. His heart pounded at the machine’s whine as it turned the case and its contents into shrapnel and sparks. His pupils were like little specks in the center of his eyes and sweat beaded on his long forehead.

Wait… Who powered on the assembly line?

Lights, one by one, turned on all along the factory, the engines of other machines whirred to life, and conveyor belts started moving. The blarg watched this all unfold like it was magic how everything was coming on suddenly.

“PULL ME UP!!!”

Victor grunted, struggling to do so. It wasn’t that Nefarious was too heavy – it was that the ball joint on the arm he was using wasn’t in the best of shape. Nefarious completely forgot to mention that after giving the warbot that tune-up to get him moving again.

“Finn, help me out!” Victor barked, and she wrapped the arms of her suit around the warbot’s waist, tugging him backwards. It was helping, but all the wiggling Nefarious was doing was causing him to lose his grip.

Rita shouted over the rail, “Swingshot! Use your Swingshot!”

That’s right! In his panic, Nefarious had forgotten all about the Swingshot he installed in his new outfit. He swapped his Combuster to the other hand, and aimed his wrist at the guard rail, firing off a tendril of energy that magnetized to it. He reeled himself in, and Rita caught him by the hand while Victor and Finn pulled him back over the railing and onto the floor of the catwalk.

“Thank you,” Nefarious gaped, “for saving my life.”

“No problem, doc,” said Victor with a big grin. “Least I could do after ya patched me up.”

“Did you see how that case exploded!?” Finn asked everyone, almost thrilled at the recollection of it. “That could’ve been you!” She pointed at Nefarious.

Victor chuckled. “I guess that’s why we call you organics “squishies”.” He made a wet squishing noise with the lubricant in his mouth.

Rita shook her head with a frown. “Too soon, you guys.” She helped Nefarious to his feet, careful not to aim her blaster directly in his face; he’d already had enough of a life-threatening scare for the night. “Are you able to keep going, doctor?”

Nefarious waved a hand at her dismissively. “Yes, I just need to catch my breath, but I can do it while we get going. With the entire factory lit up like this, I get the feeling that we don’t have much time.”

“It was probably just one of the blarg that pressed a button or flipped a switch by accident,” Finn suggested. “It’s hard to resist, when most of those things are painted all shiny and red, y’know?”

No one seemed to relate to Finn’s plight.

“Gah, whatever, you guys are no fun. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” she mumbled, folding her fins, a gesture her suit then mimicked with its arms.

“Finn’s probably right,” Rita admitted, and Victor bobbed his head in agreement.

“Hopefully, she’s right,” said Nefarious.

“We’ll ask ‘em when we get down there,” said Victor, heading towards a fork in the path they were on.

“You and Finn go meet up with the blarg and start hauling off whatever you can. Make sure you turn the machines off before you start unhooking anything first; we don’t want to damage anything,” Rita commanded. “Dr. Nefarious and I are going to head for the main computer. If there’s anything important you need to know about, I’ll let you know over the communicator.”

Victor gave her a thumbs up. “Got it, boss lady. See you in a few.” He continued his path, but Finn lingered behind.

“You’re _sure_ you’re cool by yourselves?” the drophyd asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetie. I’m just a call away,” Rita reminded her, giving her a wink and blowing her a kiss. 

Finn pretended to be shot by one of Cupid’s arrows, putting her fins over her heart and swooning, then blew bubbles back at Rita. Nefarious almost wished he had fallen into the machine if it would have spared him from having to witness the sappy scene. He started walking off without Rita, but the robot saw him leaving and came with. Finn sighed wistfully and went waddling after Victor.

Nefarious glanced over his shoulder at Rita as he ascended the spiral staircase leading to the central computer; he’d seen its location earlier thanks to his scouting bot. “Why a drophyd, anyway?”

Rita shrugged, placing one hand on the guard rail while her other held her blaster. Nefarious decided to take the same safety precautions, not wanting to repeat his mistake from earlier.

“A lot of reasons, but mostly, she makes me laugh when I forget how to,” she answered honestly.

Nefarious did his best to disguise the disapproval in his expression. “But she’s so…”

“Brains aren’t everything.”

“But what do you even _talk_ about?”

“All kinds of things! And it’s not just about having someone you can have _deep intellectual conversations_ with all the time, either. Sometimes, it’s nice to have someone you can spend quality time with. Do things with,” Rita was explaining. “Like, we love going to the beach, or to water parks, or see aquariums, or we have balloon fights, or – ooh, we like to go see that one play where everybody starts squirting each other with water guns around Halloween. I think that’s coming up soon, actually.”

“Er, I’m starting to notice a sort of aquatic theme here,” Nefarious mentioned. Finally, they had reached the top of the stairs, and were standing in front of the massive computer.

Rita giggled timidly. “Yeah, Victor hates it when he comes with us and it’s Finn’s turn to pick where we go.”

Poor Victor, Nefarious thought. Third wheel and in constant peril. No wonder he was so terrified of water; what happened to him at the nightclub probably wasn’t too uncommon. But also, what a fool for not learning his lesson by now: Don’t have a fish for a best friend. Waterproof or not, that was probably a bit of advice anyone ought to heed.

Rita and Nefarious approached the long-spanning keyboard on the terminal, and the latter typed away. He didn’t even have to try to guess the password; it was written right on a sticky note stuck to the console.

“I’m in,” he announced.

Rita, having seen the note, wasn’t all too impressed. “I know. I can see that.”

“I just like saying that, alright!? Let me have my moment, woman!” he snapped.

She laughed. “Okay, okay. You do you, doctor.”

“Here are all the blueprints for the place. That should come in handy. Downloading them all to my smartwatch while I look for the manuals for all these machines and information about how they’ve been producing their robots. It’ll help me out in the long-run, I think.” He peered away from the screen to look at Rita. “Do you have a way that I could copy the files over to you-”

She had taken out her front teeth that apparently weren’t teeth at all; it was a USB thumb drive that she could plug right into one of the computer’s open ports. “Just put it on the drive that says, “TOP SECRET” when it pops up,” she instructed, speaking perfectly clearly now without her usual lisp.

Well, that was one mystery solved.

“Done. And here are the other files; I’m sending them there as well, so that we have a backup,” said Nefarious. “Now I’m going to take a peek at the run cycle history and see what caused the factory to start up.”

“Uh, doctor? Maybe we should worry about that later,” said Rita, putting her USB stick back into her mouth, restoring her usual look and speech impediment. “We’ve got company.”

He turned around, and there were three hotbots who’d come right off the assembly line standing there menacingly.

“Oh boy,” Nefarious stammered, picking his Combuster back up from where he’s set it aside on the computer console. “Rita, you’re one of them. Try talking them down!”

“Are you kidding!?” Rita asked as a robot lurched forward and swiped at her, only barely missing when she leapt away. “Most hotbots hate each other!”

Another was moving closer to Nefarious, but he was trying to keep it at bay by firing off several Combuster shots; most of which missed their target, while the others only made glancing blows. “Wh-Why!?”

“Because we’re programmed to be insanely jealous and catty!” Rita cried out, spinning on her heel and kicking her attacker in the head and sending the robot to the ground, stunned.

“That’s stupid!” said Nefarious while ducking from a punch.

“I know!”

Rita grabbed him by the arm and took him with her as she jumped over the guard rail to escape the killer robots. “Use your Swingshot again!” she yelled over the doctor’s horrified scream.

They were both relieved to hear the life-saving familiar sound of “clink-clunk” as the Swingshot’s tether connected with something that allowed them to swing safely across the chasm and onto another catwalk, although unlike Nefarious, Rita probably would have survived the great fall, with some assembly required.

The two were left dazed by the impact of slamming onto the catwalk, and Nefarious was unfortunate enough to have Rita land on top of him. She was a lot heavier than she looked, being a robot and all.

Below them, there was the sound of a massive fight going on. Blarg against robot, and robot against blarg, with the “VRRRRRM” of Victor’s Razor Claws and the “FWOOOSH” of Finn’s new Pyrociter going off in between all the racket. Rita was the first to come to her senses when she heard a distress call coming from Victor via her built-in transmitter.

“Rita, we’re swarmed down here! It’s the hotbots! They started comin’ ta life and ganged up on us! Dang, the bolt-ons on one of ‘em are bigger than your sister’s!” he said frantically before the transmission was cut off abruptly amid all the chaos.

Sighing, Rita tilted her head in Nefarious’ direction, hoping that he wasn’t out cold. She crawled over to him, and rolled him onto his back, glad to see he was still conscious and alive. 

“Do you think you could repel us to the bottom floor with your Swingshot?” she asked.

“Oh, _now_ you ask before I’m falling to my doom,” he hissed back.

“Would you _prefer_ me to roll you off first?” She glanced at the open gap under the guard rail wide enough to fit him, and his eyes followed hers.

“Alright, you maniac, just let me adjust the settings really quick. Sheesh.” Nefarious sat up and touched a few of the tiny buttons, secured the tether of his Swingshot to the rail, then, once Rita was ready, lowered them.

“Stop,” demanded Rita while they were still suspended midway through the air.

“Are you crazy?! We’ll be like bait on a fishing line up here!” argued Nefarious.

She pointed her blaster at the back of his head, while keeping her other arm slung over his shoulder to stay positioned on his back. “I said _stop_.” And so, he did.

“Okay,” she began, “now start shooting at the hotbots.”

He aimed his Combuster underneath her jawline, and it was hard for her _not_ to admire his nerve.

“Very funny. I wasn’t actually gonna shoot you; I just wanted you to _listen to me_ ,” she explained.

She took her blaster away from his head and aimed it at one of the hotbots, firing off a shot that barely made a sound nor emitted much light. It was like witnessing a bulb go out, yet despite the lackluster, it put a deep hole into the back of the robot’s chest and made it slump to the ground, dead in as little of a time as it had lived. The surviving blarg that was fighting it off cheered.

Nefarious took this as his cue to start shooting as well, and this time to his surprise, he was able to keep his hand steady enough to take several of the rogue robots down. Rita joined in, and though she was more accurate, her weapon was considerably slower. Nefarious would keep that in mind when it came time to upgrade his new team’s weaponry if they all made it out of this factory alive.

Eventually, Nefarious was right that the robotic horde would take notice of them from their precarious vantage point, as they were all now headed their way, standing on each other’s shoulders to reach them. If Nefarious wasn’t so in fear for his life, he would have been fairly impressed by how perfect the robots’ cheerleader pyramid formation was.

The doctor and Rita kicked at the clawing hotbots, desperately hoping to topple their pyramid, but even with the blarg and the two enforcers attacking the base of the robot pyramid, the situation remained dire.

“Up! Up! Take us up!” Rita commanded, now kicking Nefarious more than she was the robots.

“Ow! You’re hitting me!” he said.

“I know! Reel in your Swingshot!”

Nefarious was still getting the hang of keeping his thoughts together under this kind of pressure, but at least he was still doing better than his first mission with the Rangers. He wasn’t sitting in a prison cell somewhere.

Taking Rita’s advice, he got them back onto the catwalk above, and exhaled a deep breath of air.

“We’re safe up here,” he said, mostly to convince himself of that.

Parts of metal clicked together, but neither Nefarious nor Rita could see where this was happening at. Everything looked fine from where they were standing. 

They finally got their answer when a giant metal hand emerged from underneath, grabbed onto one side of the catwalk, mere feet away from Nefarious, and crumpled it like a piece of paper.

“WHAT IS THAT!?” Nefarious screamed, backing up closer to Rita for protection.

“I think they all formed together and became one super robot,” said Rita, as if it were common knowledge.

“YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME THIS WAS A THING BEFORE!” he shrieked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “You’ve got a doctorate in robotics. I figured you knew.”

“I CAN’T READ _EVERY_ MANUAL OUT THERE ON ROBOTICS!” he retorted, slipping around her to hide. “DON’T JUST STAND THERE! ANNIHILATE IT!” He jumped when the other hand clamped down on the opposite end of the metal platform, the squeaking of metal being twisted stinging the inside of his ear canals.

The section of the catwalk they were standing on was pulled away from the rest, and now the singularity of hotbots was practically holding them on a silver tray, glaring down at them with dozens of glowing eyes.

Meanwhile at the monster’s feet, the enforcers and their blarg squad were doing all they can to fell the creature, but they would have been better off biting at its ankles like fussy pups for all the good it did them.

“Put my girlfriend down!” Finn roared, hurling grenade rounds at the being. The explosions left minor charring, and only served to scatter the cowardly blarg in the blast radius.

“WHAT ABOUT ME!?” Nefarious yelled over the edge of the rail.

“Oh hey, Nefarious, I thought you were dead by now! Good job on staying alive; you exceeded my expectations!” responded the drophyd loudly with approval.

The super robot began to compress the platform Rita and Nefarious were standing upon, and instinctually, the two climbed up either of the machine’s arms until they were on its shoulders. It discarded the ball of metal behind its back, leaving the blarg and the enforcers to evade it.

Shockingly, everyone below made it out in time, but the blarg who had recorded Nefarious’ blunder earlier was knelt beside the boulder of metal and cried out, “My cellphone! My entire _life_ was on that thing!” He burst into tears, and Victor and Finn had to drag him away from the giant’s trampling feet.

“You’ll live, Stan,” Victor assured him, having only saved the blarg’s life because he always backed Finn up on the field.

“I wish I hadn’t!” he sobbed.

“I could arrange that,” Victor warned, and suddenly the blarg man changed his tune.

Back up above, Nefarious was watching the rest of their team, and the giant robot’s movement gave him an idea when he spotted a spool of thick cord laying beside one of the machines that was down for maintenance.

“Victor! Finn!” he shouted to them. “You see that wire over there?” He peered over at the super robot, and realized that if he said too much, it would hear the plan.

Nefarious was extremely lucky to have swung around the neck of the behemoth when he did to get to the shoulder Rita was standing on, because one of the gigantic hands swatted where he was moments ago.

He whispered into her audio receptor. She nodded, then relayed it quietly to the others over a transmission.

_Dr. Nefarious wants you to take that spool of cord, stretch the wire out, and trip up the giant robot. Can you do that?_

_We’ll try_ , said Victor. _But what about you two? Want me ta try ta catch ya?_

_We’ll be fine,_ said Rita confidently.

Victor was a little disappointed. He would have liked the opportunity to catch Rita, and Finn couldn’t possibly be too mad about him saving her girlfriend.

The warbot and the drophyd lieutenant started barking orders at the blarg, while Nefarious clambered onto the back of the giant robot’s head with a boost from Rita. While straddling the head, he brought up his smartwatch again to resume direct control over the scouting bot he sent out earlier. 

It was still flying around the room, and he was recalibrating its sensors to help him figure out which one of these robots was the main “brain” of the amalgamation. One of them appeared as a bright red silhouette on the heatmap. There. That was the one.

He tore open the hatch to the robot’s sisterboards and crossed up the wires that controlled the motor skills. The massive robot stumbled clumsily around the room, unable to make left from right anymore, but Nefarious and Rita had to cling on for dear life until the other portion of their team completed their part of the plan.

The doctor carefully returned to Rita’s side in preparation for this. Their teammates were taking an awfully long time, and that was worrying. Did he accidentally cause the machine to flatten them?

And then, the descent began. The behemoth was falling backwards so fast that Nefarious nearly didn’t activate his Swingshot in time to catch himself and Rita from plummeting with it.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Finn shouted to the dimwitted blarg, while Victor screamed, “MOVE IT, PEOPLE!” as they all rushed to the furthest edges of the factory as they could.

When the dust cleared, all that was left was a massive pile of scrap metal. Heads and limbs rolled from the heap, and even a seasoned veteran like Victor stopped to swallow at the horrific sight. They won, but at what cost?

Nefarious hesitantly cast his gaze on Rita, expecting her to be distraught at the senseless carnage, yet was surprised to see that as she stared down at her fallen siblings, she wore an expression that he would describe as numb.

She craned her head in his direction, and it hadn’t eluded her that he sensed how she felt. “Robots have to fight their own kind all the time,” she said coldly. “It’s no different from what you organic life forms do. There’s nothing to feel sorry about here. We had to do what was necessary for our own survival.”

“But Rita –”

“It’s just the way things are.”

“It doesn’t _have_ to be.”

She chuckled darkly. “And what could _you_ do to change it?”

He noticed a trace of lubricant building underneath her eyes, but she blinked it away with her purple-colored shutters.

“I don’t know, but one day, I’ll think of something,” he said, though like with Victor’s waterproofing, he could make no concrete promises.

Rita laughed again and shook her head, thinking him foolish, but didn’t make any further comment, while Nefarious lowered them safely down to the ground and helped Rita off his back afterward.

Finn immediately ran over and embraced the woman tightly. It brought a genuine smile to Rita’s painted lips when she hugged her partner’s suit in return, and Nefarious thought that perhaps there was some merit to what Rita had said about wit not being everything in a relationship.

Before he knew it, the blarg had gathered around Nefarious and lifted him up into the air. They belted out enthusiastic shouts of: ‘Hip-hip-hooray!’, ‘That was the coolest!’, ‘Dr. Nefarious for Galactic President!’, and ‘If I were down to my last stick of gum, I’d give it to Dr. Nefarious!’, among other cheers of excitement in his favor. Even Victor pushed through the crowd to come give him an approving pat on the back, and Finn and Rita joined in when they were done hugging.

“Good job handling the situation, doc,” said Victor with a broad grin. “Don’t think we could’ve made it without your help. We saw you up there with Rita on the giant robot, handlin’ it like a pro.”

Nefarious tugged at his collar, ears turning red and fluttering a little. “I-I, well, I only swapped a few wires around…”

“I couldn’ta done that.” Victor pointed at his fellow enforcer. “Finn, could you’ve done that?”

Finn shook her torso no. “I dunno anything about robots,” she said.

“I guess this settles it. Welcome to the team, doctor,” said Rita, beaming at Nefarious.

He was so happy, he almost cried in front of his new friends. Er, teammates. These relationships were strictly professional!

Oh, who was he kidding? They were his friends. He knew it in his heart. They might be bad guys, but clearly even villains had friends.

“Group hug!” Finn called out, and the slender scientist was squished by a multitude of bodies.

“Okay, group hug over with,” Nefarious croaked, and gasped for air as soon as he could inhale it again. He had to shoo away one stubborn blarg that just didn’t get the memo.

Rita coughed into her fist, then said, “We should probably continue the celebration of our victory _after_ we take all of this equipment back to Drek’s warehouse to get it ready to be sent off to Quartu. There’s no way we didn’t make tons of noise, so I expect the police to show up at any point. Or worse: The Rangers.”

“Will there be cake!?” asked one of the blarg, made eager by the mention of celebration.

“Maybe,” said Rita.

Nefarious tucked his Combuster under one arm and rubbed his hands together timidly. “…Can it be a chocolate cake?”

Tonight, for the first time ever, Nefarious felt as if he’d won a gold medal.


	13. Chapter 13

By the time Nefarious had gotten back to Galactic Rangers headquarters via taxi service, he was still giggling to himself with delight over the good time he’d had at Drek’s nightclub when the man himself threw an impromptu party for him and his new teammates. Drek had only expected the crew would make it out of the factory with two or three machines tops before the cops showed up, but they managed to clear the whole place out, only leaving behind the stuff that wasn’t worth taking!

Nefarious didn’t usually drink, it was true, and on the few occasions in his life in which he’d gotten drunk, it was alone (not counting the time Qwark spiked the fruit punch at one office party during the holiday season) and a miserable experience that left him feeling more mired in self-loathing and bitterness than he was sober. But tonight was probably the first exception to what was normal for Nefarious in this regard.

Going to unlock one of the side doors of the HQ building with his access card, the doctor had to cover his mouth with a hand while he was cracking up over the memory of Drek falling off his motorized scooter after trying to pull off some tricks with it on the dance floor while he was totally wasted. 

The first four times Nefarious swiped his card, the access panel reprimanded him with irritable beeps for having the card backwards, moving too fast, or accidentally taking the card off the track before the strip on the back was fully read. He shushed the device, forgetting that it wasn’t sentient, and in his drunkenness believed that did the trick of getting it to read his card the fifth attempt.

He stumbled inside the building, and tried not to make too much noise as he wobbled past the beaded curtain and into his room, instantly crashing on his cot without noticing that Elaris was at his computer a few feet away.

Elaris spun around in the swivel chair at the sound of movement and reek of alcohol, shocked to see that the source of the stench was her current mentor. She expected this kind of irresponsibility from Captain Qwark, now that she’d gotten to know him a little better, but not Nefarious.

“Where were you!? It’s almost dawn, we got a message in the middle of the night from the police about a heist, and after hours of trying to find you for your help with this, you just stumble in out of nowhere drunk!” she exclaimed in a panic. “What’s gotten into you, doctor!? I can’t believe this!”

Nefarious mumbled something unintelligible in response as he set his glasses to the side and threw the covers over himself. He’d probably regret sleeping in his tight outfit, shoes and all, but he couldn’t be bothered, especially with Elaris here to make changing awkward even in his current state of mind.

He was suddenly glad that he decided to leave his Combuster and the scouting robot back at the nightclub in the event that he ran into one of the Rangers coming back to their base. It would have raised a lot of questions about what he’d been up to the past few hours when he was nowhere to be found.

“Nefarious, did you even hear a word that I said?” Elaris asked, frowning with deep disappointment.

“Yeah, yeah,” he lied, rolling over so that his back was facing her. “Just let me get a nap in, and I’ll look at it tomorrow.”

“It’s an _emergency_.”

“You know what else is an emergency? Getting some rest in. I’m _tired_ , Elaris. You should go to bed, too.”

“But-,”

“THE TIME FOR SLEEPING IS NOW!”

Sighing heavily, Elaris rolled the chair she was sitting in away from the desk, picked up her energy drink and chip bag, and left for the break room. She knew Nefarious was leaving the Rangers soon, but she saw it as no excuse for him to be so negligent in his duties. 

Even though he was right to say she needed her rest, she was going to solve this case, with or without him.

-

“What peed in _your_ coffee?” Cora asked Elaris as they sat together drinking that particular beverage at the break room table – something that became a common part of their daily routine, where as Cora used to drink coffee by herself until Brax and Qwark were up and moving around.

Elaris peered into her sugar and creamer-laden drink worriedly, until Cora laughed and said, “It was a joke. I’m just joking. You seem bummed out, is all. What’s up?”

The cadet lowered her coffee cup along with her head, revealing exactly how deflated she was. “Okay, first off: Did you get that message I sent you?”

“About the break-in?” Elaris nodded. “Yeah, I got it. Look, these things happen. The mayor doesn’t always wanna pay our fees, so he orders the police bots to sit on their hands until they absolutely need us. There used to be a time when we could show up to any crime in progress, and -,”

“It’s not about that really, though that also bugs me,” Elaris interjected. “It’s about Dr. Nefarious.”

“Ooooh, does somebody have a crush?” Cora grinned wolfishly. Elaris gave her a serious look.

“ _He snuck out of the base to go get drunk last night_.”

“What!? Are you _sure_ it was him?”

“Does he have an alcoholic twin brother I don’t know about?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then, yeah, it was definitely Nefarious.”

Cora leaned back in her chair, awestruck by the news. It figures that the one time he’d learn how to cut loose, it’d end up being at an inconvenient time. That was more or less the guy’s luck.

Qwark shuffled into the room in a fluffy bathrobe and bunny slippers, heading immediately for the coffee pot and the creamer to fix a mug for himself before joining the ladies at the table.

He took a bite out of the granola bar he grabbed from the cabinet, and with his mouth full, started talking while waving the rest of the bar around in his hand. “So, Elaris, I saw that you sent me an email, but it had a lot of words and that’s kind of a dealbreaker for me. Was it something important?”

Cora spoke up before Elaris could, saying, “Hey, Captain, did you know Nefarious went out and got wasted last night?”

Qwark’s massive fists came slamming down on the table in shock. “No way!” he gasped, almost choking on bits of granola.

When Brax entered, never too far behind Qwark in the mornings, the captain relayed the message to him as well.

“Hey, Brax, Nefarious went and partied without us last night! Cora says he got wasted! Can you believe it?”

The reptilian man laughed. “No way! Nefarious? He’s a total stick-in-the-mud.” Pausing, Brax peered around the room to make sure he hadn’t stuck his foot in his mouth. “He’s not here right now, is he?”

“He’s still sleeping in his room,” said Elaris. “But that’s not what the email was about. Last night -,”

“I’m gonna go check on him and asked what all he got up to. I’ve gotta hear this,” said Qwark, picking up his mug and taking it with him while he snacked on his granola bar.

“Nevermind,” sighed Elaris, deciding that she would try to fill the captain in later.

Brax took the captain’s spot at the table and began to drink his black coffee. “What about last night?” he asked.

Elaris smiled a little. At least someone was willing to listen to what she had to say.

-

Nefarious woke up to the sound of crunching, and after sitting up to put his glasses on, he saw that it was Qwark eating a granola bar in between annoyingly audible sips of coffee, staring down at him like the man was observing a creature at a zoo.

Groaning, the doctor laid back down and pulled the covers over his head, hoping that Qwark would disappear when he next peered out from underneath them. Instead, Qwark himself tugged the cover down to offer Nefarious the last piece of his granola bar. The scientist was going to reject it with a snippy comment, but his throbbing headache demanded that he eat something salty and sweet to calm it down.

“Thanks,” Nefarious muttered, taking the offering and popping it into his mouth. “Gah, my head is _killing me_.”

Qwark chuckled, tossing the wrapper of his depleted bar into the little waste bin under Nefarious’ desk. “I can only imagine what a hangover is like for you, Nef.”

“How did you -,”

“Cora told me.”

“And how did she -,”

Qwark shrugged. “I guess Elaris told her. They were talking when I came into the break room.”

Nefarious knew he’d regret having a few drinks at the party, but he turned out to be more of a lightweight than he expected. Probably due to a lack of practice.

Brax carefully parted the beaded curtain to peek inside the doorway, for some reason expecting to barge in on something a lot more private. “Hey, guys, we’re gearing up to go investigate a crime scene, so…”

Qwark’s head turned at this. “Crime scene? What crime scene? And who’s the captain: Me or Cora?”

The bulky reptile alien shrugged his shoulders. “You were busy, Cap’.” He almost forgot to answer the first question. “Oh, and there was a robbery last night at some hotbot factory in the old industrial sector. The robo-cops thought it was some pretty standard industrial sabotage or kids just being kids, but they have reason to suspect it’s something more major and want us helping with the investigation just in case.”

Nefarious pretended perhaps too hard to be shocked, covering his mouth and knitting his brow with feigned concern. “That’s just terrible.”

Both Brax and Qwark gave the scientist an odd look.

“What!? I can’t have empathy?” snapped Nefarious.

Brax coughed into his fist awkwardly, letting the strands of beads fall back together. “Anyway, I’m gonna go suit up, and I’ll see you guys at the transport ship.”

When Brax was out of sight, Qwark leaned down to pat the doctor’s thigh through the cover, giving the green alien a sly grin. “Well, let’s get to it, _partner_.” Nefarious hated the way that Qwark winked at him when he said that. Qwark’s lack of subtlety made him look like even more of a fool.

Nefarious then remembered what Rita said to him last night.

_Brains aren’t everything._ _Sometimes, it’s nice to have someone you can spend quality time with._

But he and Qwark weren’t partners. They just had a fling, and that’s all that it was.

Except… He did like spending time with Qwark. Even when he was being a pest. Did that make Nefarious a masochist, or was it a sign that even irritating behavior could be an endearing trait to the right person?

“I’m not helping you get dressed, you buffoon,” Nefarious hissed, throwing the cover off himself, and heading to get a snack and a drink before departure, since he’d slept in his uniform. “Go put your clothes on, and get to the ship,” he called out from the hallway.

The little antennae on top of Qwark’s mask sagged dejectedly as he dragged his feet to his own personal quarters. He missed the short time when Nefarious was all cuddly with him; that was nice while it lasted.

It must have been true that nothing good ever lasted forever.

-

At the scene of the crime, the Rangers were greeted by the sight of police tape, chalk outlines, various other markers, camera flashes, and a multitude of police bots flitting around while they anxiously tried to preserve and collect evidence.

Standing in front of the pile of hotbot parts inside of the cleared out factory were two of the most elderly robots in the city that the Rangers had come to know well in their time working with them over the years. They figured at least one of them ought to have retired by now, yet here they were, still handling cases like the stubborn old bots they were.

“In all my years, I never seen a crime like this,” marveled Cronk, the long-standing sheriff of Aleero City’s police bot force. He was a grizzled old warbot, accompanied by an equally wizened geezer of a different model, but same classification: his deputy named Zephyr.

“I’m surprised you can still see anything at all, ya old coot,” said Zephyr, growing tired of hearing his superior repeating the same statement for the third time now.

“Bunch of innocent socialbots cut down in the first moments of their life!”

“Ya already said that, Cronk!”

“Wha-?”

“Also, the whippersnappers these days call ‘em “hotbots”.”

“What’s the universe comin’ to? What next? Organic life form sacrifice?”

“Cronk-,”

“Lombaxes and cragmites livin’ together?”

“Cronk, the-,”

“MASS HYSERIA!”

“CRONK, YA DARN FOOL, LISTEN! The Galactic Rangers are here!”

“The who?” Zephyr pointed at the group of organic life forms that entered. “Oh, well why didn’t’cha say so? Rangers, thanks for comin’!”

Zephyr sighed, scratching some rust off the top of his oddly shaped head that looked like a sneaker with the sole coming unglued. “I tried to!” He and Cronk turned to give the Rangers a salute, and all but Nefarious returned the respectful gesture.

“Who’s the rookie?” asked Cronk when he was confident enough that he hadn’t seen her before, unless he’d just forgotten all about her. That wouldn’t be a first for him; he forgot things constantly!

“This is Elaris,” Qwark answered, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at her. “She’s our new technical support agent.” Elaris waved shyly.

Zephyr seemed to grin. “I thought that was Grumpy over here,” he said, pointing to Nefarious, who scowled at the unwanted nickname.

“Oh, that’s right. We haven’t told you yet,” Cora spoke up. “Nefarious is quitting.”

“Quittin’!?” gasped Cronk, turning his attention to the doctor. “Nobody likes a quitter, Nefarious! Abandonin’ your post like that… What gives?”

Nefarious felt the side of his nose twitch at the lecture. “ _Some people_ are intelligent enough to know when to _move on_.”

“Well call us fools, ‘cause we love our jobs!” was the unsurprising reply he got.

“Better than servin’ in the army; that’s for dang sure,” agreed Zephyr. “Do miss it sometimes, though.”

Cronk nodded. “You can say that again. Now I only get _half_ the nightmares!” He turned back around, only to see the heap of hotbot parts as if for the first time. “Holy criminy, someone’s been murdered! To arms! To arms!”

Zephyr shook his head, pitying his partner’s failing memory. He announced to the, now confused, police bots that were scrambling around, “The sheriff’s just havin’ a moment; go back ta what you were doin’.”

Elaris stepped forward, finding the courage to behave as if she were already officially a proper Ranger on the job. “So, do we have any leads yet?”

“No, not yet, Ms. Elaris,” Zephyr replied. “But this whole thing seems fishy, don’t it? If the thieves wanted machines for buildin’ robots, don’tcha think they would’ve taken all these spare parts with ‘em? But, no, they just left ‘em here. Hotbot parts are real valuable.”

“Perhaps they felt guilty about the idea of taking a bunch of body parts that were once in use,” Nefarious offered, thinking it reasonable to admit at the time, but it only got him curious stares from the other Rangers and the old deputy. “Of course, I’m just speculating here.”

“Could be,” Zephyr admitted. “You never know; the thief could’ve been a robot themselves.”

“Or a robot sympathizer,” Nefarious added.

“Or a robot sympathizer,” Zephyr parroted, bobbing his head up and down. “Hm, that’s a good point; we still don’t even know for sure how these hotbots ended up like this.”

“I doubt one person did all this,” said Brax, gesturing around the room where machines once sat.

“Yeah, more than likely, it was a group that did it, but we’re not rulin’ a lone wolf agent out just yet,” Zephyr agreed.

“Right, so, butt-kicking is more my thing, and since I don’t see any butts that need kicking, can I sit this one out in the ship?” Qwark asked, bored to tears already by all this sleuth business.

“ _Captain_ ,” Cora sighed, giving him a stern frown. “C’mon, we need you here. What if the bad guys come back to the scene of the crime?”

Qwark grumbled, crossing his arms childishly. “ _Fine_.” He took a deep breath to puff out his chest, then said, “Alright, gang, let’s split up and have a look around.”

Brax pulled out his Combuster just in case. “You got it.” He went off in one direction, motioning for Cora to team up with him. Meanwhile, Nefarious paired off with Elaris.

“Seriously? I’m stuck by myself?” Qwark pouted, feeling like the kid who got benched on the school sports team. Truth be told, he was hoping this was his chance to get more alone time with Nefarious, forgetting that the scientist was supposed to be mentoring Elaris to take his position.

Zephyr tapped him on the back with a finger. “C’mon, rookie, let’s get a move on. It’s gonna be a while before Cronk stops starin’ at that pile of parts.”

The entire time the investigation went on, Nefarious had only one thing on his mind: How was he going to use this opportunity to erase every remaining track, so that this whole thing couldn’t possibly be traced back to him?


	14. Chapter 14

Although Rita had long gotten used to it, it always felt a little absurd to think that she slept – or rather recharged – in an oversized fish tank ever since she had become romantically involved with the drophyd Finn.

While Drek was conducting most of his business from Kerwan for the time being, he let some of his higher-ranking employees stay in custom suites built adjacent to his nightclub on the planet, Blargian Nights. It gave them a place to stay in the meanwhile where they weren’t far, should Drek need them on short notice. 

The presence of his top agents also gave his notable clientele that were renting out the other suites peace of mind in knowing they were secure there; many of Drek’s associates were fellow criminals, after all.

Rita was a fairly new model of robot, so she was fully waterproof and could handle taking a dip. Sure, there was a chance of accidental flooding, but the water wasn’t so deep that she couldn’t easily swim to the top, climb out, and drain her chassis before anything went wrong. The water pressure at the bottom wasn’t even heavy enough for that scenario to be much of a risk.

Like she did every night, she slipped out of her high heels and dress, wriggled into a nightgown that was more like a swimsuit, climbed up the ladder, and dropped right down into the clear water, sinking all the way to the bottom until she landed right on top of a clam-shaped bed. 

Her round-bodied partner was already laying next to where she’d fallen, looking like an orange pearl, with her fins all curled up, half-asleep at the center of the bed.

Finn rolled over and patted Rita on the thigh with a tired smile. “I was wondering when you were coming to bed,” she mumbled. As she spoke, bubbles fluttered from her mouth and went topside. It was hauntingly serene down here.

“I had a lot of forms to fill out,” Rita explained, reaching down to pat the fish-creature on her side, just under her gills that were flexing slowly and steadily in her calmness. She smiled when Finn touched her hand.

“I was about to get back into my suit, and see if Victor was still up and wanted to play cards or something,” said the drophyd. “It’s been a while since we’ve played “Go Fish”.”

Rita’s smile faded away. “He went to bed early. I don’t think he got a full charge these past few nights.” It was only a lie by omission, which wasn’t so bad, right? Little white lies never hurt anybody, or so Rita thought.

Thinking back, she felt guilty for kicking Victor out of her office after he witnessed her have an emotional breakdown earlier that night when she was overstressed with guilt, but she couldn’t stand it when her teammates saw her vulnerable. 

Drek was _the_ boss, but she was the second person in line that they had to get their orders from. She felt she had to appear strong in front of them to be a good leader. Hopefully Victor and Finn both would understand her intentions.

Finn was disappointed to hear that she’d missed her chance to stay up a little later to do something fun, but come to think of it, she was very exhausted herself. 

In fact, she was noticing that more and more most days. It used to be, she could stay up all night with her pals, but now she tended to go to bed earlier and sleep in longer. Rita never had the heart to point that out, in case Finn didn’t already pick up on it herself. Finn appreciated that.

“I guess we could play cards tomorrow,” Finn said, and then yawned extensively, cuddling up to Rita’s chest when the robotic woman laid down flat on the bed. “Maybe we could have that green guy over again, and he can play with us. Y’know, what’s-his-name.”

“Dr. Nefarious?” Rita asked.

“Yeah, him.”

“What do you think of him so far, anyway?”

“Well,” Finn mulled it over for a while, forgot what she was thinking about momentarily, then as she remembered, finally gave an answer. “It was pretty cool how he came up with that plan to deal with the big killer robot.”

Rita considered the drophyd’s reply. “Maybe he should be the one leading us,” she suggested.

Finn cackled. “Instead of Drek?”

“I mean in my place.” Finn seemed worried about the way she had worded it, so Rita clarified. “I’d still be on the team, but he’d be the new squad leader. I could bring it up with Drek, and see if he’d allow that. I don’t know, what do you think?” 

Finn wasn’t used to Rita coming across as indecisive, and it was making her uncomfortable. The Rita she knew wouldn’t just step down from her responsibilities like that.

“Is everything okay?”

First Victor asked that, and now even Finn, who rarely ever picked up on abnormalities, noticed something was off. Maybe things weren’t okay after all, and they were both right to be suspicious.

“I don’t know,” said Rita with a heavy sigh that came in the form of bubbles that were whooshed forward by her internal fans.

Without much thought, Rita started swimming back towards the surface.

“Hey, where are you going?” Finn called out after her, but Rita didn’t cease her ascent.

“I’m just going for a walk,” the robot said. “I need to clear my head; I can’t sleep like this – I’m too stressed out.”

“Rita!”

“Don’t wait up for me! I promise I won’t be gone long! If you fall asleep before I get back, g’night!”

“Was it something I said?”

Rita was too far away to hear Finn’s question.

After drying off and getting redressed, Rita was off on her walk, which turned out to be more of a drive.

She got into her little pastel pink ship that served as her personal vehicle, and started the engine.

Months ago, Drek had bought that ship for her after seeing that it caught her eye when they were at the dealership. He dragged her along for her input when he went to buy a new luxury vehicle for himself, and as was always the case when it was just the two of them, could not resist an opportunity to flirt excessively. 

Rita also couldn’t bring herself to tell Finn that Victor wasn’t the only co-worker interested in her, and insisted that the ship was an anniversary gift for her loyal years of service to the company. Finn couldn’t keep up with anniversary dates, so of course she had no clue that Rita’s annual anniversary with the company happened months beforehand, even though Finn herself was present at the office party.

Was it wrong of her to keep the ship? Possibly, but there were arguments to be made that rejecting the gift would have had more consequences. Besides, she _really_ needed a vehicle of her own at the time, and a new one wasn’t in her budget; not when she was spending a good chunk of her money supporting her frivolous sister who could not be convinced to live within her means, which wasn’t exactly asking her to live in squalor, either.

What Finn didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. It’s not like Rita was seeing Drek on the side; she was disgusted by his advances. He wasn’t horrible about it or anything; he just never caught on that she wasn’t interested, and that, no, he wasn’t on the verge of “winning her over”.

She was getting tired of that, really. Being treated like a prize that was to be won, or a trophy to be put on a shelf so that the important guests could see. But people often forgot that when dealing with hotbots. 

There were myths abound about how the type of robot she was _reveled_ in that kind of attention, and hotbots like her sister did nothing to dispel those rumors. If anything, her sibling added fuel to the fire. 

Rita didn’t want to judge or seem like a prude, but she hoped that her wild-natured sister was at least truly happy in the way she lived her life. It was easy to wonder sometimes.

_What if I’m just jealous of her?_ Rita worried as the thought crossed her mind.

Backing the ship out of her usual parking space, she sped out of the lot, eager to literally drive away from her problems, if she could. Yet, they only followed her in her mind, as always. It was worth trying.

Then, she did something utterly foolish that she’d never done before: Returned to the scene of a crime.

She didn’t know what compelled her to do such a thing when she knew better, but here she was, back at the factory, having a look around at all of the police tape. Thankfully, there were no police bots, nor Rangers to be found at this hour, but no doubt they’d be back again to continue their investigation at the crack of dawn.

There were a few hidden cameras placed here and there, but being a skilled thief, she was already experienced in dealing with those. They shouldn’t be an issue. It often took quite a while before police bots realized that hours of their recorded footage was merely a still image, and that left her open to roam about the place freely, for now.

Not much was left after her squad’s raid on the place. Mostly wires, pieces that had broken off the machines while the blarg were transporting them (Drek’s lesser goons were always so clumsy), crates full of slag, and the massive pile of hotbot parts scattered around the center of the factory where most of them had fallen when they tried to put up a fight on their manufacturer’s behalf.

She stopped and stared at the pile, as if searching for meaning hidden within it. Why were young robots always so fiercely loyal to their creators, to a fault? These hotbots didn’t need to be deactivated; they could have joined Drek’s forces alongside the blarg and lived fully autonomous lives.

Rita reached over her shoulder, touching a small spot on her upper back as she thought about the marking that was there underneath her dress: the logo of the same manufacturer as these robots. She wondered if her sister still had hers, or if it’d been removed somewhere along her quest to rebuild herself into a more perfect hotbot.

When the backdoor to the factory slid open, Rita spun around on her heel, pulled her blaster out of her purse in one swift motion, and aimed it at the person standing on the other side.

“I had a feeling you were still on their side,” she said when she recognized that it was Dr. Nefarious.

“Wh… Put that blaster down before you get yourself hurt!” he snapped, looking even more furious than he was initially.

She did so reluctantly, sensing that she’d made the wrong call.

“Why are you here!?” Nefarious barked, stomping over to her. “Are you out of your _mind_!? Are you trying to get us _both_ locked up!?”

“I’m just here to double-check that we didn’t leave any evidence,” she lied, unwilling to admit her regret about the fate of the newly-constructed hotbots.

“I’ve already done that,” he told her. “It wasn’t easy with that new recruit looking over my shoulder at everything I was doing when the Rangers were here earlier today, but I managed. You being here just puts us at a greater risk, so go home. Now.”

“How much longer until your two weeks are up?” she asked.

“We’re actually going on three weeks now, but Qwark can’t count to save his life, and the other two haven’t mentioned it to him,” Nefarious explained. “But after I’ve made sure they can’t trace this investigation back to us, I’m leaving for good.”

Rita smirked devilishly. “You know, it might be more of a benefit to have an agent on the inside -,”

“Absolutely not,” the doctor waved his hands as if he were batting the idea away physically. “No, and that’s final. I’ve been putting this off for far too long.”

It was probably for the best, Rita thought. She could hardly picture him as being able to go along with a double agent act for long, not without revealing himself in an anger-induced slip-up, anyway. That would do more harm than good.

“Fair enough,” Rita said, conceding on the matter reluctantly.

She was about to leave when it dawned on her that somehow, Nefarious knew she was here. How did he know that, and how did he figure that out so quickly? He had to know she was going to the factory in the first place to have shown up as fast as he did.

Turning around at the exit, Rita cast a suspicious glance at him, and he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. He tapped on his smartwatch with a slight smirk playing on his lips. He felt redeemed, having finally outsmarted a thief that had eluded him on multiple occasions.

“Yes, I’m tracking your signature. I captured it when we were all celebrating our victory, just in case I ever needed to know your exact location. I did the same with Victor and Finn’s mechanical suit,” Nefarious said.

Rita honestly couldn’t blame him. She’d do the same in his position. She was only angry that he managed to pull that off without her noticing. “Clever.”

Nefarious chuckled. “What can I say? You have to have a very high IQ to be as good as me.” He made an elaborate bow as if expecting an applause, but Rita just shook her head with an eyeroll and walked out the open door.

“Everyone is such a critic,” he grumbled before making his leave as well.

They each got into their respective vehicles, and headed off.

On the way back to her suite, Rita heard her phone rumble in her purse, and dug it out to check the message that had just been sent the next time she was stopped at a traffic light. It was from Nefarious, and it read: “By the way, are you feeling okay?”

Groaning irritably, she laid her forehead down the ship’s driving yoke, right on the ship’s horn, which she let blare for a bit.


End file.
